Category: working out

Candy Perfume Girl

Here we are on a college football Saturday1 (GEAUX TIGERS!) and all is quiet in the Lost Apartment. I ran errands yesterday, got the mail, picked up my copy of the new Tananarive Due (yay! Hello, October Halloween Horror Month!), and after working at home, I did the laundry and cleaned up around here–somehow the kitchen had somehow gotten out of control again–while the Real Housewives screamed at each other on my television. I don’t know why I find that so entertaining, but I do and I am not apologizing for it. (And yes, I am going to write about it at some point.) We also watched The Traitors: New Blood and started the new American Horror Story: 13, which hurray for Jessica Lange, and hurray for Joey Pollari, who is playing the male lead–been a fan since catching the young openly gay actor in American Crime, an excellent anthology series from the 10s that didn’t draw near the audience it deserved for its writing and incredible cast, which included Regina King in every season. (I’ll watch Regina King in anything.)

I also went back through the book cases and massive TBR stacks to pick out an ambition list of reading for October, especially given how little I’ve been reading lately. My rereads are going to be The Dead Zone (long overdue for a reread, at least since 2016) by Stephen King and The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson. The new to me reads, if I manage, will be Christina Henry’s The House that Horror Built, A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher, and Shadowlands by Peter Straub, which I’ve never gotten around to in the forty years and more it’s been available (people always say their favorite Straub is Ghost Story; mine is Floating Dragon); I started it when it was first out in paperback, but never finished. I guess it didn’t grab me, but I grabbed another copy when I read a really interesting piece about it sometime earlier this century. (I also met Straub at Stokercon in Nassau, Long Island at least fifteen or sixteen years ago–the same conference I first met a pre-Gone Girl Gillian Flynn. Both were delightful and charming.)

I actually started my reread of The Dead Zone, and while I only got a few pages into the prologue, I was immediately reminded of why I love King, and that Johnny Smith is probably one of my favorite King characters, and while this book was always overshadowed in my mind by The Stand, which is my favorite King, as the books were released consecutively. I remember back when King was still a new writer and unappreciated by critics and reviewers while his books were literally flying off the shelves–one of my English professors in college, was very disdainful when he noticed I was carrying a copy of Firestarter with me, again shattering any thought I may have had about pursuing English as an undergraduate major because the professors were the worst kinds of snobs and my fellow English majors put no thought into their reading or analysis that wasn’t spoon-fed to them by the professors, whose egos definitely needed stroking (they all had mediocre minds).2 The irony is that while King has always done work of the highest quality, he was unappreciated while he was doing his actual best work. That run of novels, beginning with Carrie and ending with It, is probably unmatched by any other author in the canon of US authors; certainly in horror and crime….and those earlier works stand the test of time; I’ve reread all of those books numerous times.

Yes, a revisitation of a King classic is de rigeur.

Yesterday was a stunningly beautiful day. When I walked out to the car to run said errands, I was amazed at how gorgeous is was outside: warm but not excessively hot, and a coolness to the air that was very refreshing. Then I got in the car, started her up and looked at the temperature gauge and laughed. It was 86 degrees outside–but it wasn’t humid, which makes all the difference. (It’s currently 77 degrees outside; the kind of weather where you want to sit outside and read….or would, if I had a comfortable place to sit outside and read.) This is how the summer breaks us here. Anyway, as I drove around I was reminded again of how beautiful this city actually is, and again how lucky I am to live here so I can be continually inspired by this stunningly beautiful city.

I ordered myself a pair of Apple Beats Pro to finish off the gift card Dad sent me for my birthday. One of the most annoying thing to me about the new iPhone I got last year was that wired earbuds don’t work when plugged into them–and besides, I can’t use earbuds and my hearing aids at the same time. The other night when Paul came home I realized he uses over-the-ear headphones that wirelessly connect to his phone and a long overdue lightbulb turned on over my head. I can use over the ear headphones too, so I went ahead and ordered them. They came this week, but alas, I haven’t had time to set them up yet, so I intend to do that this morning. Just in time, too–since the weather has changed (hopefully for good) and I can go for walks now with them. My goal is to go back to the gym in January, and I need to start building up my stamina before that return.

At this point, kicking Ed Sheeran when he’s down is a bit mean and bullying, but I did laugh when his shows at Kraft’s stadium wound up canceled because of this huge nor’easter heading for New England, which has me worried about my friends up there. Take care everyone, don’t take unnecessary chances, and stay safe up there, okay?

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines for the day. Hope you have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be here bright and early before the Saints game tomorrow. See you then!

Love this image of birds over a bayou near Lake Borgne.
  1. Very bad news for the Tennessee Vols, though–Trump is coming to their game with Texas today, and wherever he goes, the home team loses. I don’t like either team, but will watch and hope for a good game. ↩︎
  2. My college experience remains the biggest disappointment of my life. I expected so much more than a continuation of high school, you know? But…I also went to two really shitty colleges. ↩︎

Promise to Try

It’s my birthday, and I made the enormous mistake of giving Sparky a new catnip toy this morning and now he’s high as a kite and zooming around the apartment, with the occasional launch of a crazed kitty at me in full play-attack mode. Needless to say, I’m regretting giving him that toy!

And just like that, I qualify for senior discounts. Funny, I don’t feel any older this morning. I’ve never been a big birthday person, for any number of reasons (primarily because outside of my parents, no one else ever cared much about it, which I will unpack at some point in the newsletter), and the older I get the less fuss I want made of it. I really prefer to just spend the day hanging out at home with Sparky and Paul, very low-key. I’ll watch some shit on television, and do some reading; maybe even take some notes on something, anything, that I am working on currently. But no pressure at all, and that’s the lovely thing. A day of ignoring the world and everything else going on and just having some peaceful, relaxing down time. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It does, indeed. The house is messy, so I may slowly and gradually do things, too, but the primary goal for the day is to stay off-line as much as possible and just have a lovely quiet day at home.

Sparky also let me sleep late this morning, for which I am grateful, and even slept in the bed with me after checking on me at the usual time I get up. The no-alarm confused him, I think–hey you’re supposed to get up to the loud noise–which is why he curled up in the crook of my legs and went to sleep.Yesterday was fine. It was a relatively easy and mellow day at the office, and I ran some errands when I got off work. Paul got home while I was catching up on the news, and we watched another episode of Furious, which took another turn last night I wasn’t expecting. We’re caught up now, and have to wait for the next episodes to air, so we can catch up on The Shards and Reacher in the meantime. There’s also a couple of movies streaming that I want to see–Obsession and The Devil Wears Prada 2. And the final season of Outer Banks dropping today on Netflix like another birthday present for me. I also want to read more today, and finish the birthday newsletter I started…but there’s no rush. It’s about getting older and not being ashamed or afraid of the word old. I wouldn’t, for example, want to be younger now than I am, and frankly, now that my health is pretty far along on its way to 100%, I actually feel pretty good most of the time other than the occasional ache or pain; and you know, I was often sore when I was younger because I worked out.

And yes, we are definitely seeing the new Spider-Man tomorrow.

I also got caught up on the new season of Real Housewives Ultimate Girls’ Trip, and I have to say I really am enjoying seeing the other women bonding over not liking Vicki. Them’s my girls!

So, I am going to get another cup of coffee and have some breakfast. There’s a load of laundry I want to do, and the dishes need to be done, and some minor straightening up I also need to get done and handled, and get cleaned up as well. Sparky has calmed down now enough for me to safely navigate the apartment without getting attacked, so it’s also safe out there.

Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will see you tomorrow morning!

A very young Michael Biehn posing as St. Sebastian

Walking in the Underground

Tuesday morning and all is well in the Lost Apartment. I slept deeply and well last night, and as such, feel pretty good so far, at least. I’m alone in the clinic today and I have an almost entirely full schedule, and after work I need to run an errand or two on the way home. Summer is definitely here now–the kind of heat and humidity that just sucks the life right out of you, and even getting cool by going inside isn’t restorative. But I did my chores last night, cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes. Picked up a prescription, and had some groceries made and delivered. It was lovely coming downstairs to a cleaned up kitchen this morning after a restful night’s sleep. Yay!

I did spend some time (more than I would have thought) cleaning out the email inboxes, which got very much out of control while I was gone, and I didn’t even look at it on Sunday–well, I did but recoiled away from it in horror and pushed dealing with it back a day. I was tired when I got home a bit, but got the groceries put away and got the dishes taken care of, at long last. Again, it’s nice to come downstairs to bare counters and an empty sink. I won’t have any chores tonight, but I do have some errands to run on my way home. I still have not adjusted completely to being home, but am getting there. It wasn’t terribly oppressive outside when I get off work (my car did feel like a preheated oven, however) because it had been cloudy all day and so no direct sunlight, which is always brutal. We’re in another heat advisory today–can’t wait to see my next Entergy bill, seriously.

And as Louisiana moves into yet another horrific summer, apparently our European cousins have also been having an insane heat wave which is killing people. One of the more amusing things to come out of the European heat wave is Europeans europe-splaining heat to Americans like we’ve never experienced excessive heat before–particularly the nearly-always condescending British. There was one particularly stupid one I saw trying to explain why the heat is “so much worse over there than in America” because they have humidity. She then used the Southwest climate as proof. Oh, honey, don’t you know in our desert climates it can get into the 110’s and 120’s? Trust me, you condescending superior bitch, you couldn’t handle the dry heat of 117 in Fresno in the summer. And are you seriously telling people who live in the American south, Midwest, eastern seaboard, and New England don’t have humidity? Babe, come try to live in Louisiana without air conditioning sometime. We have this weather every fucking year, and as such, we have things like central heat and air conditioning–which you also mock us for using…then whine when you have to experience what we do every year once in a blue moon?

I also can’t comprehend 80 degrees being a heat wave. That’s our spring.

I was low energy yesterday but I also think a lot of that was food-related; me not eating enough, as I tend to do when I travel. I woke up super-hungry this morning, which leads me to think that I certainly didn’t have enough fuel to get me moving. But I am having a nice breakfast this morning, and I am very hungry. I am trying not to gain any more weight–I need to start doing some exercise at some point–but I also need to fuel my body at the same time. Sigh, I know, I know, I need to eat healthier than I do, or start burning more calories. I no longer burn as much energy when I am not exercising anymore–yay for being older–but some more exercise (even a morning walk around the neighborhood) is better than nothing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow on (gulp) pay-the-bills Wednesday. How is that even possible already?

Where the sidewalk ends in the lower Garden District….

I Need A Lover

Ugh. Paul’s currently under the knife, and I’ve been up since four (!!!). We had to be here at 5:45, but the good news is we will probably be home before noon. Obviously, I am tired—no one should ever have to get up at four in the morning, seriously—and I have no idea what the rest of my day is going to look like. I know I’ll have to go get his prescriptions once I get him home—which is fine, I can run some errands at the same time—and then hopefully be settled in for the weekend. I do have lots of laundry and picking up to get done, too.

It was supposed to rain all day yesterday, but after the morning it was all over. I don’t know why I bother checking the weather; New Orleans’ weather forecasts literally change completely if you wait a few hours, and I need to remember that the forecast between May and October is always hot, humid, chance of rain. Every day, all day, week in, week out. I look forward to the rain, though—which is probably not the way most people feel.

I brought All of Us Murderers with me to read this morning, and I realized—despite being sleepy and tired—that there’s nothing wrong with the book at all; it’s just not what I was expecting, which I will delve into more when I finish reading it and write about it, which is a relief; that’s an entirely different kettle of fish, and by reframing how I’m reading it and reacting to it through a more accurate lens will change my reaction to it. I think this happens a lot with readers—they go into something expecting something else and then don’t like the book because they’re disappointed, rather than reframing their expectations; that’s why I simply say “it wasn’t for me” when I don’t enjoy something. One should always respect the amount of work and dedication that went into the book, which is something people should be reminded of more regularly.

Yesterday was a good day, even if my evening was a little truncated by having to go to bed earlier than usual—or at least I tried. I know I wanted to go to bed around nine, but I think it was closer to ten when I climbed the steps and slid beneath the pile of blankets. I was a bit tired by the end of the day, but nothing remotely close to how I used to feel on Thursdays. Even now, I don’t feel physically tired, and one of the best benefits of the three day weekend last week was my Achilles tendons finally got enough rest to stop hurting, so I can actually walk normally again—and it also means I can walk more quickly, and the stairs are no longer a trial. Huzzah! I also have lost about seven pounds or so in the last two weeks—I limit myself to weighing every two weeks because i refuse to obsess about my weight ever again—which was also kind of nice. I’m not eating as much as I used to because I get full a lot faster than I ever did before. I think that’s another age thing? Hopefully, I can start taking walks and getting in to better condition. AT LAST!

Okay, the surgeon came in to let me know everything went well and he’s in the recovery room for about half an hour before being returned here to this patient room. Probably be here for another couple of hours or so—he has to wait for his leg to wake up and do some physical therapy before we can head home. Yay! I’m sure he’ll go to sleep once we do get home, Sparky will curl up on him, and all will be well. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines—well, go back to reading—and will be back bright and early in the morning! Until then!

We Live for Love

Tuesday and it’s back to the office with me today. It was a marvelously relaxing holiday weekend, and I was pleased to read some more, and have ideas and work on writing, even if it was mostly scribbling in my journal. I don’t have a problem with any of it, and yes, I know I should be a little bit more concerned that I didn’t apply fingers to keyboard more than I did this weekend, but fuck it. I get to have free time and get to have down time, don’t I? And if i don’t, that’s not a life I want to live, thank you very much. It rained all day again yesterday, along with a lovely early afternoon thunderstorm. I put on season three of The Traitors for background noise and started reading and thinking and writing again, like I had done on Sunday afternoon. At some point I’ll need to funnel that energy and thought into writing on the keyboard. I also spent some time in the morning diving into the morass that is the news, which was cheery on the Ukraine front but not so much anywhere else. Ah, well.

And so it goes, I guess. The reality is the country has been on the decline for decades, but MAGA certainly accelerated the rush to the inevitable collapse. Who knows what will rise from the ashes? Will it be better or worse? I probably won’t be here to see it, and yes, I am very concerned about the midterms. I won’t alarm anyone with my usual pessimistic forecasts, because sadly I am proven right more often than not. It’s also no fun being Cassandra and not being listened to, either. I always thought she was the most tragic character in the entire story of the Trojan War, and have always wanted to write from her perspective. It would be an interesting exercise—a woman who can see the future but isn’t believed which drives her deeper and deeper into madness which makes each prophecy harder to believe? That is a particular kind of hell, isn’t it?

I wish Madeline Miller would make that her next novel.

It also dawned on me over the course of the weekend that May is almost finished, which means it will be JUNE soon…which is PRIDE MONTH. Should I be that old queen and be gauche, cliché and stereotypical and turn my newsletter into queer stuff all month? Of course, you already know the answer to that, don’t you? And yes, the answer is always yes. I think it’s important, and if queer content bothers the subscribers they wouldn’t be there in the first place. No one is making anyone read it, either. So, bearing Pride rolling up so quickly, I took that into consideration for my next reads, tabling what I had already had on deck, and switching it up a bit. My new-to-me read will be All of Us Murderers, which ticks off several boxes for me in addition to its being a queer read: it’s also a historical Gothic romance; it’s written by a cisgender-identified woman; and it’s also a crime novel. These are all things I want to talk about more in my newsletter, so I can touch on them during the newsletter about this book. I’ve also set aside The Ivy Tree as my next reread for A Queer Kind of Death by George Baxt, which I read decades ago and have an eye to see how it holds up. It’s also historic and was originally published in the 1960s, with a Black gay main character written by a gay white man…which should also prove interesting to revisit and talk about.

I feel good this morning, rested and relaxed and in a decent mood. I did do some writing–by hand–yesterday–in my journal, in which I reworked and rewrote the opening to an in-progress short story. Of course it isn’t one that fits any submissions call I have found recently, which is par for the course, but now that I am in such a period of low productivity I’ve pretty much decided that whatever pops into my head is what I should work on, rather than trying to force something that doesn’t want to be forced, which makes the most sense to me at the moment. My Achilles tendons don’t feel tight anymore, either, which is the biggest win to me of the weekend.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Till then!

The famous bust of Queen Nefertiti, whose name meant “the beautiful one has come.” And yes, it’s in a Berlin museum, and yes, the Germans need to return it because it’s loot.

The Yellow Rose

Friday morning, and I have to get some bloodwork done before I head into the office this morning. Sigh. I slept really well again this morning, which was great, and thank the Lord I don’t have to fast for these labs so I can have coffee before heading over to Quest. I had a decent day yesterday, despite being a bit worn down from the trip. I did get chores done, read some, and ran errands; I also had things delivered. The cupboard was bare, quite literally. I also paid bills, tried to get caught up on the always depressing news–don’t even get me started on the Louisiana drive for voter suppression and a lack of guaranteed representation in this state; I cannot wait to sign the recall petition for our boot-licking piece of shit governor. Trust me–I am watching for a local announcement on where to go to sign it. There are times when I really hate this state, and this is yet another example of why New Orleans doesn’t claim Louisiana. I don’t understand the mentality here of voting against your best interests, time after time after time, and expecting better results. Louisiana has always had shitty and corrupt politicians on the state and local levels, and we’re so used to being betrayed by our politicians, who sell us out to corporate and elitist interests all the time, and always have been for the most part. But there is a lot of anger about this redistricting, and that anger might actually lead to a political revolution in the state; it just depends on how racist the electorate is. I don’t hold out much hope, to be honest. Maybe the economy might drive some people out of the folly of voting against their own interests, but I doubt it. I don’t hold out much hope for Southern racists to wake up from their post-Reconstruction stupor that has been in place for over 150 years.

I also need to figure out where I am with everything and what I need to get done. When I get home from the office today, I am going to have to consult my running to-do list, see if anything can be scratched off, what needs to be scratched off, and of course, add things that need doing. We have lots of shows to catch up on this weekend, some movies I’d like to see, and maybe start bingeing something new. It was gloomy and a bit rainy yesterday, which was kind of relaxing (we had serious rain overnight on Wednesday), and tomorrow I am going to have to run some books to the library sale and stop to get a few things at the Fresh Market, maybe even wash the car (madness!), and do some more reading or writing. I have a gazillion newsletter blog entries to write, some short stories to work on, and of course, the book needs to be gotten back to. I have to go back up to Alabama for a long weekend next month, but after that, don’t have to be anywhere until October, when I go up and then follow Dad back up to Kentucky. I need to buckle down and start slowly working my way back into getting into better physical condition, and I really need to get back to reading and writing more. I am greatly enjoying Carol Goodman’s The Sonnet Lover, which I want to finish this weekend. I also need to get back to work on reading Listen for the Whisperer and The Egyptian Cat Mystery, so I can move on to other books to read. I may reread a Mary Stewart classic as my next reread; we’ll see how I feel when I finish these.

Heavy heaving sigh, I also need to need to register for social security and Medicare, too, since I am turning 65 this year. I don’t want to start drawing SS until I am 67, when I am vested at 100% in it, and can still work full time with no limitations. That’s two more years; I think I can hang, since I was thinking about working until I’m seventy, if I actually last that long. I am keeping my health insurance from work, rather than starting Medicare, but I think I have to sign up before I turn 65? I need to look into this more. (Something else to add to my to-do list, I suppose.) I hate having to be responsible, you know? I’m not even sure how much my social security will be–besides that it won’t be enough to live on–but if I can draw it for three years while still working, I can work to pay off everything I owe, and the removal of that debt will ease that burden. I never thought I’d be here, to be honest, to have to understand how all of this works and what plans I need for the rest of my life. I’ve always been a grasshopper and never an ant, you know? But, it was a long shot to make it this far, yet here I am, defying all odds again.

I also can’t get this book idea I figured out while I was in the panhandle out of my head, either. I am very proud of myself for coming up with how to make the slasher novel I want to write in a more clever way of approaching it. I have been scribbling notes like it’s going out of style, too. Ah, well, it’s nice to have my creativity blooming instead of lying fallow as it seems to have for so long.

And on that note, it’s time for me to get more coffee and get ready for my day to start. I still feel a bit out of place in my own life, but that’s what this weekend is for; to get my equilibrium back. SO, have a lovely and charming and marvelous and productive day–whatever you want it to be, make it be so–and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning. Until then, see ya!

Long time fitness and physique model Eric Turner, who is aging like a fantastic wine.

The Closer You Get

Sunday Funday in the Lost Apartment, and how are you doing this morning? I feel good thus far; Sparky let me sleep a little later this morning and that was marvelous. My coffee is going down well also, and it’s a little less bright than usual outside. Yesterday was nice. I ran my errands and did some chores around here, and spent some time scribbling in my journal notes and ideas for newsletters and stories and where the book I am currently working on is going to go next. I also scribbled out some notes for a possible Chanse novel, which I am toying with. It’s not a priority or anything, but I will write that book if I ever have the time and I figure out the entire story beforehand. Chanse can never be a “fly by the seat of your pants” type story, and who knows? Maybe outlining a book again might be good for me. Who knows?

I finished watching Fit for TV last night, and ugh. As a former working fitness professional1, I disagreed with everything they were doing on The Biggest Loser–even that flip-sounding pun in the title (The winner is a loser!) didn’t sit right with me. I know the show was very popular and kind of a thing, but it seemed–to me, at any rate–like they were exploiting these desperate people and mocking them at the same time. The show wrapped its cruelty under the hideous guise of “helping”, which also enabled people to watch, not from empathy, but to be cruel and laugh at them, which is something I cannot now, or ever, condone. I have never enjoyed cruelty or mockery because I know how it feels to be on the other end of that. Watching this documentary, which was absolutely horrible and painful to watch from the perspectives of former contestants, is very compelling, and showed that I was right. What they were doing to the contestants wasn’t healthy or good for them, wouldn’t provide long-lasting results, and they would eventually put all the weight back on–further emphasizing that sense of helpless defeat they already experience. Being heavy in our society and community isn’t easy, and losing weight (and keeping it off) is a significant challenge (ask me how I know). It’s very easy to feel defeated, beaten, and like a total loser–and being on a show called that isn’t psychologically healthy for anyone.

We caught up on our in-progress shows last night–Hacks, The Boys, The Comeback–and started watching another series about a cult, but it wasn’t very well done and we turned it off without finishing the first episode. I”m not sure what we will be watching this evening, but I want to get some things done this morning and this afternoon to get them over with. There are still chores that need completing, too. If I get everything done, or not, isn’t worrisome to me. It just simply is, you know? I don’t have any deadlines, but I need to get moving because I do have so much to do, and I need to stop feeling overwhelmed by the extraordinary amount of work I still have to do. Anxiety was always such a good motivator for me…but I was also thinking yesterday that as long as I continue to feel good physically and mentally, maybe I should go back to the gym this summer and try to once again get my body back under control–and my weight. It’ll be harder now that I’m older, of course; everything gets tougher the older one gets…but I also don’t think I’m ready to spend the rest of my life in my easy chair with a remote control affixed to my hand, either. I also picked my audiobooks for the trip next Friday: The Note by Alafair Burke and A Letter of Mary by Laurie R. King; I love the Mary Russell series and I love gradually working my way through it leisurely. I didn’t do any reading yesterday, alas; but I intend to do some this morning before showering, ordering stuff for delivery later, and of course, picking up around here.

The MAGA Civil war continues to rage, and I do have to confess I am really enjoying watching it all while munching popcorn. This stage was all too predictable; when you base a movement on hatred and bigotry, it is inevitable that once the decline begins they would all turn on each other. It’s also been interesting seeing people having the scales of American mythology removed from their eyes and finally being cognizant of their selfishness and recognizing at last the truth about this country and its history. For me, letting go of the myths and opening my eyes made me more than a little angry about being lied to and brainwashed for so much of my younger life, but it also made me a better person, I think. Likewise, recognizing that all oppression is the same only branded differently also opened my eyes to the struggle racialized Americans have endured for hundreds of years, making me a lot more of an activist for other causes besides queer ones. If one’s rights are abridged, then everyone’ are abridged and at risk–and the twenty-first century has plenty of examples to go around, you know?

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head over to my easy chair to do some reading (after cleaning out my email inbox). Have a lovely morning, Constant Reader, and may your Sunday Funday be simply marvelous and a load of fun. I’ll be here again bright and early tomorrow morning. Ta ta for now!

The buck moth caterpillar–those spines sting and hurt like hell.
  1. I was still teaching aerobics and training clients when the show started airing. ↩︎

Wide Open Spaces

Sunday morning and I am still feeling disoriented. I kept thinking yesterday was Friday, and that today would be Saturday. I have an errand to run and some groceries to have delivered. I stayed up late finishing the laundry–it was launder the bed linens day, postponed from Friday, which also helped with the day mind-fuckery–but slept very well and slept in. The kitchen looks much better than it did yesterday morning, but it still needs some work. After Paul got up, we just had a lazy day hanging out and watching television. It was indeed a gorgeous day out there yesterday and it looks like today is going to be just as lovely. I may take a walk later just to revel in the day and get some exercise. Maybe I’ll stretch today too–can’t hurt, right? I’m starting to feel the itch to become more physically active, since I am not nearly as tired all the time the way I used to be. It’s so lovely not to be tired, Constant Reader, you have no idea!

I can also tell my injection is due next Monday.

I was thinking–I did do a lot of that yesterday–about my recent newsletter essay about gender roles and my not fitting in as a child as a boy who didn’t conform to my assigned gender role (which meant I was gender-nonconforming) and that really, it was the late 1970’s/early 1980s when those rigid roles began to loosen slightly. I’m enjoying all this introspection and self-discovery journey I’ve been on for the past few years (beginning with Mom’s death), which also makes me realize how long I avoided examining myself and my life. I thought I did a lot of navel-gazing before, but it was always pretty shallow and never went very deep, ever; often, I think, because there were things about myself I preferred not to know, or to confront. But I’m more interested now in accepting patterns of behavior that I now understand were driven by the anxiety, which is now under control.

I also spent some more time paging through Jackson Square Jazz and kind of enjoying it, because it also is reminding me of writing the book and the research that went into it, particularly the Cabildo Fire, which was a real event that I wrote into the book as a pivotal moment for the plot and I got to write about some New Orleans history that may or may not have ever been talked about in fiction. (I also remember being rather taken aback when someone told me the pre-Katrina Scotty books were also important historically because they documented what gay Quarter life was like before everything changed; Jean Redmann did the same for the lesbian side.) I am in the thinking stages of the eleventh (!!!) Scotty right now, too–I know the plot elements I want to hit–and I am also thinking about getting back into the in-progress manuscript I am trying to focus my energies on (rereading Christa’s story from Crime Ink: Iconic got me back into that mindset again, even as I realized I couldn’t tell my story as well as they told theirs); I need to immerse myself into that world again as I reconfigure my main character, who I was softening a bit. No, the main character, Greg, needs to be on the make, as they used to say back then, using his looks and his body to advance himself in Hollywood, while painting a dark picture of what being queer in Hollywood used to mean.

And so, on that note, I think I am going to bring this to a close and go have some breakfast before settling into my easy chair to read; I think I am going to reread Listen for the Whisperer by Phyllis A. Whitney and try to get further into my first-time reading book. I also need to do the floors and clean up the workspace a bit this morning. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow on work-at-home Monday. Till then!

The beauty of Yosemite

Just Like a Woman

Thursday, and my last day in the office for the week. I am feeling so much better than I did over the weekend and the first few days of this work week and also am feeling a bit more centered than I have since that morning last Monday when there was no water pressure and we were in a boil water advisory. I wound up spending all of last week off-balance, got sick over the weekend (I was coming down with it on Friday evening, and it peaked on Sunday and Monday, with some left over on Tuesday when I went back to the office), and now I finally feel more like myself. Thank God, right? It was so lovely waking up this morning without a head full of snot and a sore throat and post-nasal drip *shudder*. Tomorrow morning I have a meeting in the morning and then have doctors’ appointments in the afternoon, and we do need to go to Costco. I’m not sure how this weekend will turn out–productive or restful, or some combination of the two. I’ve not done any chores these past couple of days, and I really should take care of them tonight so I don’t have to come down to a messy kitchen/office space again, and there’s some laundry I should also get done. It’s always so tempting to sit in my chair and catch up on the news before watching more of The Traitors (yes I am obsessed with that show, and I am revisiting things that spark joy in me–anything Alysa Liu or Amber Glenn related, anything Heated Rivalry, anything Ilia Malinin and US women’s hockey, too) with Sparky not helping matters any by sleeping in my lap.

Obviously, it doesn’t take much to kick me off-track, does it? It was lovely to finally feel good again yesterday, and I feel like I should point out that my Achilles tendons are doing much better. The left is fine, but the right is still a bit tender and tight, so will ice it again thoroughly tonight and periodically over the weekend. I want to start stretching again too. The Achilles tendon issue has delayed my return to working out and exercise, but there’s no reason I can’t start stretching again before I feel up to returning to the gym.

I remembered something over the weekend that I’d completely forgotten about, and once I did, I stewed about it for a few days before deciding what I wanted to do. If you will recall, my close friend Victoria died about a year ago, and she left me a gift in her will, which was an absolute shock. I signed the letter from the probate attorney and forgot about it. His office contacted me on Friday that the estate has been probated and I would be getting the gift in a short amount of time, which was a lovely surprise. But this weekend when I was moving things around I came across copies of a book I wrote that I completely forgot about, which is wild to me. In 2009 or 2010, Victoria decided she wanted to start a small press for diverse children’s and young adult fiction. I wasn’t sure it was a great idea–2009 and 2010 weren’t a good time in publishing; this was during the indy/trad author wars, when ebooks were really changing the entire industry–but she knew I had written a couple of young adult manuscript in the earl 1990s and they were collecting dust in a drawer (we’d talked about this when I met the y/a editor from a major press who was familiar with my work and wanted me to submit a manuscript–but Katrina happened and I let that opportunity slip through my grasp), and she wanted to publish one of them (the other two were Sleeping Angel and Sara, which I sold to Bold Strokes). They weren’t doing anything and I wasn’t doing anything with any of them, so I thought, knowing the odds of me making any money off it were slim to none, but…she was my friend and I wanted to help her out, so I let her publish Sorceress. Like I said, though, it wasn’t a good time to be launching a traditional publishing company (she hated ebooks), and I didn’t worry about it. I promoted the book the best I could, but have no idea how well it sold, if it sold at all, because I never got a sales statement or a royalty check–but I want to be very clear about this: I loved Victoria and I didn’t care. She had wanted me to write a sequel, which I did a first draft of, but never revised or anything. I never brought it up, she never brought it up, and I had no desire to make her feel bad or guilty about it, so why bring it up? People I know who did read it liked it–it was my first real stab at writing Gothic suspense/horror–but like I said, I gave it to her freely with the full expectation of never seeing a cent.

But now that she’s no longer with us (at least once a day I miss her still) I kind of would like to have the rights to it back, and maybe revise it and put it up as an indy book. (I know, I have to get Jackson Square Jazz up and going, too.) And since she left me a gift, why not use that gift to get these two books–and my next short story collection–up independently? But what about the sequel? It’s not necessarily tied to the first book–different characters, for one–but the same California mountain town (same as Sleeping Angel, too). Anyway, it’s something to ponder.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous Thursday, and I’ll be back in the morning yet again!

Street Angel

It’s cold this morning–in the forties–so I’ll probably wear an extra layer to work today. It’s never going to be warmer than the mid-fifties. We are also in a red flag warning, which means we’ve not had rain in a while so there’s a chance of fires again, in and around the city. I think last year there was a wildfire in one of the swamps east of town and ugh, did the air smell bad. I am rested this morning, but the ankles are still sore and need to be iced tonight when I get home. I didn’t get much of anything done this weekend other than finishing the cabinet/pantry project, but that’s okay, you know? Sparky needed some bonding time, apparently–I was trapped (cat owners understand this) in my chair for almost five hours yesterday because he was a little ball of fur in my lap, in a sleep that was so deep he didn’t react to anything in that entire time. I did get up a few times, but he would yawn and stretch and follow me into the kitchen to ask for treats and then followed me right back to the chair and into the lap he’d go. He was snuggled up with me in the bed this morning–I had a fitful night’s sleep, honestly, the worst night’s sleep I’ve had in months. Today is the date for my every-eight-weeks injection; I could tell yesterday that it was coming up because I had some discomfort yesterday and was a bit concerned and then thought oh yes, I bet the injection is tomorrow and sure enough, it is. Like clockwork, right?

Unfortunately, with Sparky needing a lap and bonding time, instead of reading I turned on the television and watched some news, some replays of the Olympics skating (I”m so proud of our figure skaters!) and was stunned to see that US men’s hockey team captured gold by beating Canada–just like the US women. I think I saw our Olympic team was the most medaled US team in winter Olympic history, which is very cool. It’s very lovely to take pride in our young athletes rather than the constant embarrassment on the world stage that this administration is–and I am thankful to the world for not booing our athletes, which is something I was afraid of, and then realized, projection–US Americans are the type, not people from other countries. I hate that Canada lost the golds in their national sport to us, especially after our government has been non-stop bullying (or trying to, anyway) theirs.

The LA Olympics in 2028–should they happen–will probably rival the 1936 Berlin Games for xenophobia and the triumph of the will…if they aren’t boycotted by every country on the planet. The thought of all the banners to himself he’s going to hang everywhere in sight, lording over the Olympic Games like a syphilitic Nero. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t try to award the medals himself–or steal the golds. The constant need for adoration and to be awarded prizes he doesn’t deserve is truly pathetic, and I could even feel some empathy or sympathy for that constant reassurance that he is indeed a Very Special Boy that he never got from his revolting parents, if he weren’t so fucking dangerous. It’s all very The Dead Zone, and I’ve thought that since the day he rode down that tacky as fuck escalator to announce he intended to loot and destroy the country while bringing back the 1950s.

No, I will never forgive the people who supported, financed, and voted for him–even if it was only once. How much strychnine can the country take, after all? One good thing about him–the only good thing–is that he has completely exposed the Right and their voters as liars, cheats, and hypocrites whose only gods are money and power and racism. Their Christianity is a heresy, their patriotism is white nationalism, and their love for the country is conditional.

Patriots, my ass. (And today’s picture is of a nice ass, for the record.)

I also refuse to berate myself for resting this entire weekend and not doing much of anything other than chores–I even managed to talk myself out of doing my errands! Although the one thing I will berate myself for is how easily it is to talk myself out of doing everything and anything, but that’s also the negative road and I am choosing not to take it. But I do need to get my ass in gear and get my shit together.

And on that morose note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning (it’s going to be cold again, yay).

Yikes! That’s a rather intense wedgie, isn’t it?