Tag: family

I Love the Nightlife

I also love to boogie–especially in the disco round, oh yeah, baby.

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment after kind of a nice, slow and easy day around here. Paul stayed up late working so pretty much slept the entire day away again, and I myself got up late yesterday, too. I didn’t mind, even though I was a little perturbed that I got up so late. But I had a nice morning. I did some things I needed to do and cleaned and organized some more, and I got up pretty early this morning, too. I don’t know how motivated I feel today, but I am hopefully going to get some good writing work done this morning so I can spend the afternoon reading. Sounds like a winner to me. We did finish catching up with Reacher, Abbott Elementary, and Prime Target last night, too. Tomorrow I get to report to Criminal Court for jury duty in Mid-city, so I will be finding out what’s going on with that. I’m hoping to be dismissed before parade days start; I’d rather go to the office and leave early than try to get home at five from Criminal Court in Midcity, which would probably require taking I-10/90, getting off at Tchoupitoulas, and doubling back from there with no place to park. Ah, well, this too shall pass, and as a crime writer, it’s always interesting to see how criminal court–or courts in general–operate up close and personal.

It’s gray outside, and rain is expected, which should put a damper on any and all parades today. There are no night parades, so technically I could make a grocery run after King Arthur ends, but I doubt I’ll want to be out and about at that time anyway. I do have all kinds of things to do today–I want to spend the morning writing and the afternoon reading, if at all possible. It’s always so nice to curl up in my chair with a blanket and read while it’s raining, you know? I like feeling snug and cozy; which is why I am so particular about sleep arrangements. Want to know something weird about me? I sleep with four blankets, because that’s enough weight to make me feel snug and comfortable. I have a soft wool one on the bottom and one really velvety soft one on the top. I need two pillows, always, and also need the ceiling fan on and a little personal fan on my nightstand going. Weird? Just a little bit. But I think we all have things that we do, little rituals, that bring us comfort and joy. Just me? Probably. I always default to me not being normal, I suppose; the product of my youth. Thanks, bully trash!

I did work on an essay yesterday a bit, one called “Try That in a Small Town.” I started writing it when the Jason Aldean nonsense happened last summer, because that “real America” bullshit has always, always pissed me off; and essentially has always been used to demonize cities–you know, the economic engines that fucking drive the country–and reassure provincial types who stay in rural areas that they are more important than the city dwellers. This of course goes back to the lies that were always told to encourage immigration when white people felt the need to “fill the continent” with white people while exterminating the natives. You can be free, you can own land and property, you can prosper because the government will leave you alone to do as you please and not restrict your freedoms. No, the rich people needed more consumers, and they also needed population in the “empty” territories to produce and buy. The United States has always been expansionist; even the Founding Fathers assumed more states would be formed out of native land, after they were pushed out. Anyway, I actually lived in a very small town in a very rural county in an underpopulated state for five horrible years–and I will dispute to my dying breath this notion that small towns are the “real America” (fuck you again and again with razor wire, Sarah Palin)…because everyone acts like they’re like Mayberry when they are really Peyton Place–horribly judgmental with lots of cruel gossip and backstabbing, and the sexual perversions of these “good meat-and-potatoes Americans” not even Grace Metalious could have dreamed up–and Peyton Place was nothing more than a novelization of things she witnessed and experienced in a small town. It always infuriates me, you know, to hear this “real America” shit. Try to make it without Chicago, New York, LA, Boston, and San Francisco. The fucking economy would crater in about two seconds. But…cities are usually Democratic strongholds, so they must be demonized, always.

And there’s the rain! I knew it was coming. It’s just a drizzle but it’s enough for the gutter to drip water on the cat enclosure just outside my laundry room–and it’s only raining on that side of the house. This happens here a lot–it can be raining on one block but not the next; one part of the city can be getting a flooding rain while it’s sunny and bright in another–but I don’t remember the last time it only rained on the other side of the house. New Orleans, always so bizarre.

It also seems that the American people are getting fed up with what’s going on in Washington, and they are starting to push back. I’ve progressed beyond FAFO, to be honest1; the danger to the country’s future is that strong that the mocking and pointing fingers and laughing and atonement can come after the threat has been overcome. I think this is the kind of lesson we needed to learn; we’ve always taken our system for granted and always assumed the government was stable and would hold–forever smug about governments toppling and falling in other countries while we remained stable. The problem is that stability was only achieved through horrific compromises…and human rights should never, ever, under any circumstance, be left to public or government whim. The seeds of self-destruction were planted in the Constitution with the compromise on enslavement. Senators used to be appointed by state legislatures, not the people. BUT it was also designed to be a living document, changed and amended over time to clear up inconsistencies and always, always, intended to protect the people from government overreach. I also agree with something I saw on social media yesterday–every elected official should be required to have regular town halls to meet with their constituents, and they also need to remember they were voted in to work for their district, not the president. Separate but equal branches of government means nothing when elected officials in Congress abdicate their roles for whatever reason.

And really, what is MAGA but the modern Confederacy? Yes, they are also Nazis…but remember–the Germans learned about how to deal with undesirable sub-populations by studying enslavement and Jim Crow. There’s your heritage, rednecks. You were Hitler’s blueprint. And weren’t plantations simply concentration/work camps with a nicer name?

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

  1. I’ve not, and never will, forgive MAGA voters, to be sure–just like I’ll never stop mentally dancing and pissing on Ronald and Nancy Reagan’s graves. But I can put that aside for now to overcome this threat. But there needs to be a reckoning–unlike after the Civil War and 1/6/20. ↩︎

Every 1’s a Winner

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Tomorrow is my usual remote day, but I have a couple of doctors appointments so I am taking the day off. I was right about being tired; by the end of the day I was so tired I thought I might fall asleep driving home! But I didn’t, and I got the mail and came home and got inside safely, locking the door and the cold outside. It’s very cold this morning, too (currently a toasty 31 degrees!). We watched some Arrested Development last night, and I did some work on my writing. I got some welcome feedback on a short story I wrote for an anthology, which was also very nice. I slept very well last night, too–the cold, I think, played a part in that as well as my physical exhaustion when I got home last night. I even did some chores last night, which was very pleasing. I have an errand to run on the way home from work tonight, and once I get home from the appointments tomorrow, I’ll be in for the rest of this very cold weekend in New Orleans, and buckling down and writing. The parades also start this weekend, so I need to be very judicious in my parade attendance so I can get some writing done. I am feeling more into my writing than I have in a very long time, so that is very cool and kind of exciting to me. I was terribly concerned over the last two years that I’d never write anything again. I think that the combination of everything else going on, in my life and in the world, along with severe burnout, was why I was struggling to write, and when the depression is mixed in, well, it’s no wonder I was uninterested in writing anything and couldn’t get anything done.

Definitely wearing layers today, too. The apartment is warm, but here at my desk? Not so much, really. But I am so grateful for last night’s sleep! I actually am awake and alert and not foggy in the least. It feels good to feel like I’m totally present, which I didn’t feel like the first part of this week. God, sleep is the best, isn’t it? I feel like today is a day when I can get things done and function and get my entire act together for a change. Hopefully, this feeling will last me for a while. I guess the trip last weekend required some readjusting back into my life–it’s weird how something like that can be so disruptive once you’ve settled into a routine (rut, whatever) with your life, isn’t it? But I am also in a very good mood this morning, and I’ve kind of been too tired lately for that to be a thing, you know? And definitely plan on riding this wave as long as it lasts–it’ll probably crest this afternoon. I do have some chores I need to do once I am back home, and of course, back to the store today on the way home (thank God for CBD Rouse’s, so I don’t have to go the long way uptown).

IN my tired state last night (and after being scolded/lectured by two trolls on social media, whom I made very sorry that they emerged from under their bridge) I was thinking about things–going to Alabama always makes me think about things from the past, plus all that 70’s research I’ve been doing lately–and I was remembering, with Sparky curled up in my lap, how different life is now from when I was a child. (Shocking, right? Who knew that I’d go through the same things every other older person has throughout history!) I was talking to Dad about Mom and her mother and what things were like for Mom growing up (Dad always talks about how great Mom was and how she never complained, despite how poor they were when they were first married; I replied, “Yeah, that apartment in Chicago might have been tiny but she had running water and a telephone, so that probably seemed like a step up. She didn’t know any better.”), and of course that led into how Mom and her mother never, ever reminisced or thought about the past…and I said “Well, it’s also kind of weird to think when my grandmother was born the Archduke hadn’t been assassinated yet and Europe was dominated by monarchies and empires”…which tripped him out a little. And she had older relatives who’d seen the Civil War. I was born during JFK’s presidency, before Vietnam and in the midst of the civil rights movement. Women couldn’t have credit in their own names and were erased as people, assuming their husband’s name legally as “Mrs. John Smith” rather than as “Lisa Smith.” There was no such thing as no-fault divorce, and the grim reality was most women made their hellish marriages work, dooming them to a life of misery.

Our country really hasn’t been around that long, and neither has our progress toward the ideals of the founding–we’ve never achieved that original ideal, and now we are sliding back into the abyss as a tyrant is in charge (Reagan could only dream of the power the FOTUS has assumed and been gifted by his craven political party) and our constitutional republic is on the ropes. I also have realized over the last week that the only people who can save the country from this threat is the opposition–the courts aren’t going to do it, Congress sure as hell isn’t, the media is laughably unconvincing propaganda-pushers with no desire to do their jobs properly, and neither are the “all-in” party that supports this. I no longer subscribe to the notion that MAGA voters and politicians have been “fooled” somehow, conned…at this point, we just need to accept the fact that they are willing participants–all of them. They can’t say they didn’t know because he told them, for years, what he wanted to do and they cheered, so yeah–I have no empathy for any of them. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as “MAGA regret” because I will personally guarantee that if the election were done over and held again tomorrow, every last one of them would vote for him again despite what they now know.

There can be no forgiveness without atonement and true repentance–that should be the lesson of the Civil War.

Well, this turned into a rather lengthier tome than anything else I’ve done on here this week, hasn’t it? That’s a good sign I am going to take with me into the spice mines for today. Have a great Thursday, everyone, and stay warm!

Got to Be Real

Work at home Friday, and I have two on-line meetings today and some simple quality assurance and trainings to do. Woo-hoo! Yesterday wasn’t too bad, despite me being so damned tired. I was exhausted by the end of the day, as I suspected I would be, but I wasn’t crabby from being tired, either. I took I-10 home (I’ve been doing that lately and despite the traffic back up on the ramp to 90 and the bridge, it’s been fine) and dragged myself inside where i promptly let Sparky climb me and ride on my shoulders while purring and rubbing his head against my face (which does get awkward as I change out of my work drag), which is lovely. I did come home to a NEW garbage disposal; did I mention yesterday that we cleaned Wednesday night because, well, the house was a disaster area to the point we didn’t want our plumber–who’s been our plumber for over twenty years now–to see it? It was nice to come home to a clean apartment, just as it was nice to get up to one yesterday (and this) morning. I’ve really let the house get out of control, and I feel like now that we’ve got this deep start on it, it’ll be easier to finish what’s left and then maintain it. High hopes, y’all, I got high hopes again on a micro personal level. I even made a to-do list for the weekend. I know, right? Who am I and what have I done with Gregalicious?

And there are few things I love more than cleaning and writing at the same time. It’s a sickness, I know. But it is my happy place. I actually daydreamed last night as I caught up on the End Times (which is what I call the news now) about how much better my life will be with a working garbage disposal again and realized, with not even a pang, that I actually like being able to find so much happiness is getting a household appliance operating again. That will dramatically help keep the kitchen clean (see? I really went deep down that rabbit hole), because it means I can also use the dishwasher again (I don’t understand this, but I don’t need to–it just is) which means…washing dirty dishes off and loading them into the dishwasher to run once it becomes full. It’s weird how things like that please me, make me feel contented, and settled. Paul and I did talk about that a bit (before I finished watching the reunions of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City); that since the world is being such a dumpster fire and every day brings a new barrage on our intellects and senses, what need to do is go back to thinking about the apartment the way we did when we were able to move back in after Katrina–our safe space, a comfortable and quiet place where we can get away from the insanity and shut the outside world off and withdraw into a bubble. Our haven, as it were. And even now, with things still needing to be worked on and put away or taken to the dumpster, it looks so nice and clean and different, so better, than it has in a long time and I’m so pleased.

And with the Super Bowl this weekend, who wants to leave the house? No thank you. I’ll go uptown to run some errands, but downtown? No fucking thank you. I don’t want to be around crowds unless catching beads is involved. I think there’s a Super Bowl parade today for the visitors, but…I don’t know. I’m glad they get a taste of what our parades are like, but it’s still not quite the same as standing on the sidewalks of St. Charles Avenue on a crisply warm evening with the sky so dark blue it’s black, the glow of streetlights casting flickering shadows as people dance to the music of a marching band and wave their hands in the air while masked riders toss some beads to the waiting gleeful celebrating hordes of the unwashed1.

I also want to get my email inbox cleared out. I also think I need to send some emails to people I’ve not touched base with in a while. Not to worry, I still intend to spend most of my time in isolation like an anchorite (which would be a good title, wouldn’t it? Anchorite, by Greg Herren. I actually like the sound of that), but it doesn’t hurt to have contact with people that I do actually like and care about. Make sure they’re still alive, you know? I still need to get some things worked out within my life and my schedule and the barely contained or controlled chaos of my existence. I’ve got to get this exercise thing back into swing, and I need to start working on trying to eat a bit more healthier. I hope to finish reading She Who Was No More this weekend, and then I am going to get to pick out another new read. I also get to pick out something to listen to in the car on the way to and from Alabama next weekend (not sure how much I’ll be posting from up there, but it’s only a quick trip and back. I am very grateful I live that close to where we’re from; I could not make trips to Kentucky with great regularity), but I always like something Gothic and fun in the car. I know I’ve got a lot of titles built up on Audible; I’ll have to look through and see what sounds fun.

Look at me, making plans and shit, looking forward to a future. I guess there’s no point in letting myself burn down with the rest of the world. I got up earlier than usual this morning (before seven; Sparky was hungry and would not be denied) and I feel pretty good, to be honest. My coffee is going down well, I feel rested and alert, and here’s hoping I’m going to have a great day.

And on that optimistic note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, tomorrow morning.

Gorgeous young Spanish actor/singer Manu Rios. I’ve had a crush on him since he played chaos gay Patrick on Elite.
  1. I count myself as one of the unwashed; I’ve never ridden and I don’t think I would ever want to. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve never really wanted to belong to a krewe and go to a ball and ride in a parade. ↩︎

I Care

How is it only Wednesday? It feels like it should be at least Friday by now, doesn’t it?This has been the longest week, seriously. It’s cold again this morning–in the forties–and the rain has stopped. The bipolarity of winter in New Orleans is something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to, no matter how long I live here. I don’t feel tired this morning, but the cold does make me want to get back in bed again and burrow beneath the covers. I was all kinds of warm and comfortable under my blankets this morning when the alarm went off, and by the second beep Sparky was up, trying to get my attention to get up and feed him. I don’t feel worn out, but I don’t think I’ll make it through the afternoon without my energy flagging. Ah, well.

I even left work early yesterday for my podiatrist appointment, and the good news is the toe has healed perfectly and he was most pleased with not only how quickly it healed but how properly as well. His absolute delight when he looked at was very clear. (Apparently, I am some kind of medical marvel of healing; Paul heals pretty fast, too–how many people are discharged the same day they get a hip replaced?) But that’s a good thing, and there was some callus where he’d cut the nail and the scab had been, so he got rid of that with an exacto knife (it didn’t hurt at all) and then I was done and walking out to head home. I wasn’t even super-tired when I got home, but I worked for a while and that wore me out enough to finally put it all aside and relax for the rest of the evening. I hate that I am not catching up as quickly as I would like to, but that’s life, you know?

I also keep forgetting the Super Bowl is here in February, which will make getting around the city so much easier. Yay. And of course, there’s a massive facelift (or at least temporary patchwork) being done to New Orleans to get ready for it, so you never know what detours lie in your future.

I also watched Matt Baume’s documentary about Lance Loud, the gay son of the first reality TV show, An American Family, from the early 1970s on PBS. we didn’t watch it, but everyone was talking about it, and I remember hearing about the gay oldest son, and how the marriage ended in a divorce. I think my parents thought being filmed for a television show was exploitative and kind of gross? My mother certainly wasn’t one to get into reality shows–she even stopped watching soaps about twenty years ago. I was never really sure why, but Dad has told me over and over again about how deeply conservative she was (trust me, I knew but it still came as a surprise–I always thought it was Dad and she was just trying to make him happy. Ah, the things we are led to believe as children but never really give much thought to…Dad became more conservative because she was so conservative), so I have to assume the soap thing (I used to watch them with her when I was still in school) might have had something to do with that? I know my sister stopped watching them because they encouraged you to root for adulterers. My grandmother also used to watch them when I was a kid (I actually think she was the one who got me and my sister started on Dark Shadows), but also stopped. Anyway, it was an interesting documentary, and I learned a lot more about Lance Loud than I’d ever really known before, other than he was the gay son on that show.

The tale of Robin Hoody keeps getting more and more interesting the more information that comes out about him, and I keep being more and more amused at the way the country has almost completely united (see what I did there?) behind him. That really should tell everyone about the mood of the country, shouldn’t it? I keep being amused at how the story is being reported, and how much resources the NYPD expended on searching for this person while no one is even talking about the immigrant stabbed to death by racists on the same day in the same city, and certainly the NYPD isn’t making that a top priority. I’d love to see the price tag for justice for a health insurance executive, and why the NYPD and the media made this into such an insane priority. Yes, by all means, do tell me about how everyone is equal in the eyes of the law! And of course, the more information that comes out about both shooter and victim, the more noble the shooter sounds and the more awful the victim was. The media was certainly unprepared for the way people reacted, and the fact that the media so completely misread the mood of the country makes you wonder, again, just how shitty they are at their jobs; and the right-wing grifters attempt to frame this as a right-left issue blew up their faces…as some angry Americans slowly began to realize the media they consume manipulates them to make money, and people saw it as more of a class war kind of thing that apparently everyone has just been waiting for to happen.

And that’s what has the elites and their puppet media terrified. They cannot allow the country’s division to heal and anyone who is not an elite must be persuaded to fight a culture war when the real problem is and has always been the class war the billionaires have been waging against everyone else since Ronald Reagan was sworn into office in 1981. I also think a lot of the angry people are recognizing that they voted in the rule of an oligarchy and are not very happy about that, either. For the record, I don’t have any sympathy for those who voted for this and now have regrets. Too little, too late, too bad, so sad. You voted to make people suffer, and sadly, you’re also one of those. I can’t even begin to tell you how horrible those people were before the election, and how they absolutely refused to listen to anything anyone had to say.

And the newspaper coverage and most editorial commentary has shown how deeply out of touch they actually are from everyday citizens, and how they prop up the elites at every possible turn. Imagine if the media hadn’t gotten sucked into the cult of Trump in the 1980s and started turning him into a celebrity for no good reason. Seeing them trying to lead ‘the resistance’ after doing everything they could to reelect him (so much for that “liberal media bias,” right, Richard Nixon?) is not only craven, but disgusting and people are starting to see very clearly what our “news media” actually has become: completely incompetent and not good at their jobs. The news shouldn’t be a for-profit business, just like health care should not be.

And on that note, I am bundling up and heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and here’s hoping the rest of this week flies by.

Screenshot

Big Four Poster Bed

Tuesday and progress was made yesterday, thank Goodness. I am hoping to get all of this stuff finished and out of my hair (off my scalp?) by the weekend. One can dream, at any rate.

It rained most of the day yesterday, and is going to rain all day again today, while staying warm before getting cold again tomorrow. It’s messing with my sinuses and my hearing aids, which isn’t nearly as fun as it sounds. I think it’s also affecting my ability to work and not be tired, if that makes any sense? I was very fatigued when I got home from work yesterday. I did get some work done, though–not as much as I wanted to–and we’re going to be very busy in the clinic today, so I’ll be tired again after work today. I have to leave early to see the podiatrist to check on the in-office procedure he did on my toe–it’s healed nicely, so no worries on that score. I don’t need another cortisone shot in the toe, either. There’s an occasional ache in the toe, but nothing unbearable. I also made dinner last night–Swedish meatballs, Gregalicious style–and it may have been the best batch I’ve made thus far? I also managed to get most of the mess cleaned up, so the kitchen isn’t a disaster area the way it usually is the morning after I’ve cooked. Paul felt better yesterday, too, which was awesome, and we did finish watching Cruel Intentions, which had an excellent season finale and left enough things hanging to drive a second season, which hasn’t been ordered yet. They didn’t wrap everything up, and there are enormous plot threads left dangling for a follow-up season. I do recommend the show, even if the male lead isn’t Ryan Philippe; who is, after all?

So, it looks like someone turned in Robin Hoody, whose real name is the so-Italian-I’d-never-dare-name-a-character this Luigi Mangione–and within minutes his shirtless photos were popping up everywhere you turned on social media; the thirst is real, and when Internet sleuths are on the trail, it never takes long. It’ll be interesting to follow the story once more information is known; I don’t have much interest in being an Internet sleuth, so am more than happy to wait for the in-depth article about him from either Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, or The Atlantic…or the inevitable Ryan Murphy season of American Crime Story that he is undoubtedly feverishly casting as we speak. I mean, he even has the patented Ryan Murphy look, except for the blue eyes. Apparently, he was some kind of tech bro who went to Penn and had a vendetta towards health insurance because he had a back injury and back pain. I’m kind of curious to hear what his defense will be–and how many people contribute to his defense fund–which says a lot more about how we all feel about the health insurance industry in this country than a sudden American embrace of outlaws.

Never, ever doubt that there is such a thing as pretty privilege.1 (Tellingly, the only people who don’t believe that pretty privilege exists are usually, you guessed it, pretty.)

I also see people enraged at the McDonalds employee who recognized him and tipped off the cops. Yes, he’s became a bit of a social media Robin Hood since the shooting and the majority of us were hoping they’d never catch him–but I don’t think he cared about that one way or the other, to be honest; I think he wanted to be found and with all that evidence he was still carrying around for no reason. Time will tell. Anyway, I don’t think people grasp how life-changing even a ten thousand dollar windfall would be for someone who works at a McDonalds; and wasn’t there an additional fifty thousand dollar reward put up, too? Much as I would like to be angry at that employee–I can’t say I’d turn down sixty grand and I don’t work at a McDonalds. (I will say, the social media posts from the corporate accounts of other fast food companies have been hilarious.) The ironies of all of this are kind of amazing, really. Luigi was a rich Ivy League educated young man from a world of privilege and wealth. He murders the CEO of a shitty health insurance corporation and becomes a folk hero–and two right-wing grifters trying to blame the left for the shooting had their audiences turn on them; their comments sections were aflame–and is brought to justice by a tip from a fast food worker making minimum wage who probably doesn’t have health insurance.

This book pitch would get turned down everywhere as implausible…but I kind of wish Dominick Dunne was still alive, because his reporting on this story for Vanity Fair would be incredible.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later, unlikely as it seems now.

  1. Don’t @ me about this, saying that I have pretty privilege. I certainly don’t now, when I did I didn’t even know it–but I did notice some things after I trimmed down and got rid of the at-the-time Dad bod I had in the early 1990s. Dad bods were not a thing back then, and I’m not convinced gays have embraced dad bods yet. ↩︎

She’s About a Mover

Thursday morning and I’ve almost made it completely through the week. Tonight I am going to that party, which is my first public event/party this is not part of some kind of conference weekend in I don’t know how long. It’s a lovely opportunity to dress up and meet some people that I should meet, or that I should probably already know.

And it’s at John Cameron Mitchell’s home, he bragged again.

Yesterday was a good day. I felt good and rested for most of the day, but after running my errands, I came home and kind of hit a wall. I worked on an essay a bit, and then went to give Sparky his cuddle time in my easy chair while I caught up on the news (and the new season of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, more on that later), but I was daydreaming about writing–what else I was going to say in the essay, what else to write in my short story, what to do with the Scotty book–so my creativity and my drive to write and be productive is coming back. That’s kind of cool, and I am really happy about it. Going to the party tonight meets not having time to do any chores–I have a sink full of dirty dishes, for example–means tomorrow during work-at-home times I’ll have to do chores, as well as going to have lab work done at Quest over my lunch break. I cannot believe Thanksgiving is looming on the horizon, either. Paul is leaving on Tuesday for a week, and so I’ll have those four days at home alone to just either be a vegetable, or get a lot of shit done. I am hoping for “getting a lot of shit done”, but we’ll see how it rolls and all plays out.

I also have emails I need to answer, but I’ll most likely let that slide until Friday morning, unless I can get some of them done between clients at the office today. I don’t think we’re going to be terribly busy–we were yesterday–and we won’t be terribly busy the two days I am in the clinic next week, either. So I should be able to roll into the holiday weekend fairly well rested already, so we’ll see how that long weekend turns out. I’m hoping to not have to leave the house much, if at all, and hibernating in the Lost Apartment while trying to finish reading The Reformatory and get some writing done, too. This looming weekend I am going to try to write and get some editing done. I’m also going to have to read some short stories for the short story contest I am judging for S&S, too. I’m just glad I’m not traveling for the holiday; those alone days will be much more productive and nice for me. Sparky will be needy since I’ll be the only one home here with him, so he’ll turn into my shadow and won’t let me out of his sight. I was reading an article about where your cat sleeps explaining how he feels about you yesterday–so apparently Sparky thinks I am both his mom (sleeping in my lap) and someone he needs to protect (either under the bed or at the foot of it). Sweet, isn’t it?

He really is a sweetheart, even if he goes on damaging rampages periodically. When I got home from work yesterday the Brita pitcher was on the kitchen floor and the rug was soaked (it’s drying on the banister outside), and some other things were down on the floor, too. I really do need to keep up with the chores in the kitchen so the counters remain cleared, so he can’t make a mess when he gets the Zoomies and runs around the apartment at high speed knocking everything off every surface he leaps and bounds off.

Sigh.

It’s also cold this morning–58 degrees. It’s nice–probably partly why I slept so well last night, and hopefully will again tonight. The high for the day is a whopping 64 (dead of winter, really), which is nice. I like when it cools down like this, even if I do get weary of it relatively quickly. It should be a relatively easy day at the office, and I am not going to make myself crazy rushing to come home and get ready/change for the party. I am definitely not making the VIP pre-party cocktail hour at six, so will instead shoot for arriving around seven-ish. I can wear my saddle shoes! I always love an opportunity to wear my saddle shoes. I will probably not drink anything, maybe a glass of wine, and probably won’t stay all that long–even with my anxiety under control, I’m not sure how walking into a social situation like this will play out, but maybe the meds will help me relax and be social and make small talk without breaking into a cold sweat with my stomach clenching and unclenching.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and venture out into the chill. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one never can be entirely sure with a Gregalicious.

You think the garden hose is symbolizing something? I wonder if Facebook will think this is suggestive.

I’ll Be Doggone

Well, it’s election eve and I am in Kentucky, of all places. I didn’t think when I planned this trip–it was postponed from a few weeks ago; we’d originally planned for me to meet Dad in Alabama for their birthdays and then I’d follow him up to Kentucky. Another family thing came up so plans couldn’t be made or finalized until it was too late for me to get the time off, and I chose this week because LSU didn’t play this past weekend (of course)…so I am up here with my right-wing family for the election. The election hasn’t come up much since I arrived, and my dad mentioned something about it to me today; I won’t say what he said but it started even if his candidate doesn’t win blah blah blah. It sounded defeated, frankly, and I’ve never heard Dad make such a comment in such a way; usually it would be the problem, followed by “this is why he has to win”, so it was odd enough for me to take note. I’ve been essentially off-line all day–we went over to my sister’s for lunch and stayed the afternoon over there–and away from the television. Dad and I watched some television tonight and he went to bed early. I am tired now–I ran out of steam a few hours ago–but I wasn’t when I got here yesterday.

It was a beautiful drive. I came up through Nashville instead of Chattanooga, and it was a nice, new drive. Gorgeous drive, even if the traffic between Huntsville and Nashville was a bit more heavy than I would prefer. But I felt good. Sundays now are my best day of the week. I’ve gotten enough physirest and my brain is working and firing on all cylinders and it’s usually when I got the most done. I got up at six on Sunday morning and slowly woke up, did some chores, and drank some coffee and packed. I departed the house around eight thirty in the morning. I finally finished listening to that hilarious podcast My Dad Wrote a Porno (more on that later) and then listened to Gabino Iglesias’ House of Bone and Rain, which is fantastic, the rest of the way. I still have about an hour to go; I’ll most likely listen to the rest while I am here and then start The Reformatory on the way home Friday…and yes, I am aware of Raphael and am paying very close attention. Right now it’s projected to come ashore about five hours after I arrive in New Orleans–so I will have to pay attention to the weather intensely as it could seriously affect the drive home. Yay?

Anyway, I wasn’t physically exhausted when I got here. I was tired, but my mind was alert and I didn’t feel like I could fall asleep unexpectedly at any moment. I felt good, and it was nice. I’ve not made this drive in well over a year (at this time last year I had already undergone a surgery and was prepping for another–and I think I also got a colonoscopy/endoscopy last fall as well, if I’m not mistaken. My memory is so tattered these days. I can’t remember anything anymore, and to remember when something happened I have to remember when other things happened and my feeling about when it was is inevitably incorrect. This bothers me some, because I used to have an excellent memory–and for many years it was one of the few things I had that I could take pride in. How sad does that sound? Pretty damned sad, I think. I spent my twenties in an almost constant state of depression, which was incredibly miserable, but the chemical imbalances enabled me to hide it well from most people, since I never let anyone get to know me well enough for them to know. I never let people close enough because I couldn’t trust anyone enough to actually be myself around them. Wow, that was some digression, was it not?

But I was very pleased to arrive and not be a complete zombie, and then I slept well until I got up this morning. I did hit a wall today, though.

Tomorrow we’re going to go see some historic homes and making a Sam’s run, which is always nice…and a bit surreal. I do like being divorced from anxiety-making news and social media, and it’s also put me into a place of whatever will be, will be. Probably more zen than I would have ever thought I’d be or feel, but that could also be my new medications. But it’s also super nice to not be wrapped up into Gordian knots of anxiety.

And on that note, I am going to call it a night. We can do this, people.

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Go Now

Ah, Sunday morning and the last day of relaxation before I return to work tomorrow, and of course next weekend I am driving up to Kentucky. That’ll be nice, if exhausting–I never sleep enough when I travel–but I’ll get to see my sister and spend time with Dad, which is always nice. I’ll get to listen to books in the car, and read some while I am up there. I doubt I’ll write anything; or even edit much. I should just accept that in advance since it never happens, and I’ll have my journal with me and the laptop if the urge should strike. That should be enough, don’t you think? I know I certainly do.

Yesterday was kind of a flat day. I ran my errands and came home to watch football games, and was pretty tired. I did end up getting some chores done around watching games, but not much of anything. I did read some, too, between games. About the best game of the day was Texas-Vanderbilt; Alabama seems to have righted their ship at last, Auburn finally notched a win, and LSU lost last night at Texas A&M. They played great in the first half and then just crumbled in the second, and it was mostly the offense and the kicking team that cost the Tigers the game. But good for you, Aggies–your rivalry renewal game with Texas over Thanksgiving just became super-important. We don’t play again until November 9th, when Alabama comes to Baton Rouge, and we’ll see how and if the ship gets righted that night. I can’t remember the last time the two played where both had two losses coming into the game…I cooked out last night and that turned out well, and I did get some things done yesterday. There’s a few dishes in the sink and of course, the floors…but mostly today I think I am going to focus on writing and reading the most. I want to work on the Scotty Bible today and I want to revisit the manuscript completely, and of course there are short stories and essays to be worked on, as always. So, once I finish this I’m going to go read for a while with my coffee, and then get cleaned up and get to work on writing. Exciting!

I do want to start the week with the apartment cleaned, for one thing.

Yesterday I was thinking–during the dull Alabama-Missouri game–about projects I want to work on and the things I want to get done over the course of the next year, until 2026. It’s an ambitious slate, to be sure, and does require me to actually focus and work rather than blow everything off and spent time with Sparky, who gets sweeter and sweeter every day. He’s finally started cuddling and sleeping with us downstairs while we watch television–he’ll sleep on Paul before moving over to me in the chair–and of course, every morning he gets into bed with me (because he’s hungry) and is kind of a snooze button/alarm that I much prefer to the clanging of the actual one. I need to research hurricanes, too, because I am writing about one, so it doesn’t hurt to actually research and find out a basic overview of them so I can write about it in the book. I do think this Scotty could easily turn out to be the best of the bunch, frankly. Which is a nice feeling to have, I don’t remember feeling that way with the last two, but at the same time I also wrote the last two maybe five years apart? That’s kind of crazy, because I really should at most space them a year and a half apart, which I’ve not done in well over a decade. Kind of nuts, isn’t it? I’d say so. That’s no way to write a series, is it? I don’t know. I probably don’t care all that much, either. I’ve never been terribly smart about my writing career, mainly because my primary driver is the writing itself. I love writing, even when I complain about it, but it’s my primary source of joy in this life.

This week I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday, with a podiatrist to see about my pronating feet and what is up with the pain in my big toes. It’s not always and it’s not bad enough to make me limp, but it is noticeable. I also noticed when I was pushing the cart around the grocery store yesterday that my hips were sore and hurting, which means time for a new pair of shoes. I should probably get that checked out as well, but it is most likely a side effect from my feet and their pronation. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d need to have them (the hips, not my feet) replaced at some point over the next five years or so. My new glasses should come in as well, which will be great. I’m hoping they come in before I leave for Kentucky, because I got transition lenses because bright light and glare have become really painful for me, and that will help me on the drive up. I also think I am going to be brave and go up a different way, skipping Chattanooga by going north on I-65 at Birmingham to go through Nashville instead. That’s a better route for me; there’s a lot more places to eat and get gas between Birmingham and Nashville than there are between Birmingham and Chattanooga. I can always come back the normal way–I do want to get a look at the rest stops on 75 for a short story that I think I’ve finally figured out–which never seems to be as bad as going, you know?

And on that note, I need to get another cup of coffee and have breakfast and get cleaned up this morning so I can have a good, productive day. I hope you have a marvelous Sunday, too, Constant Reader, and I’ll chat with you again probably a little later.

The Jolly Green Giant

Professional Development Monday blog, in which the office is closed while we do some continuing education and team activities. The place we are meeting this morning is actually pretty close to the house, maybe six blocks or so away? I also don’t have to be there until nine, which means I can leave the house around twenty till or so. I’m not entirely sure how the day is going to go or how taxing it might be, or what time I’ll be done and home for the day, either. I feel decent this morning; I could have gladly slept longer this morning but got up at the same time I usually do on Mondays. (I wasn’t sure what time we had to be there, so I got up so I could look it up and yes, was right about it starting at nine, but oh, well.) I need to reset my body clock after the weekend anyway.

Yesterday was a nice, relaxing day. I got the dishes and the kitchen cleaned (finally) and made the chili. I also spent some time with House of Blood and Rain, which is extraordinary, primarily because it’s a lot of things that I generally don’t enjoy, and avoid a lot when making my reading choices (more on that when I’ve finished reading it at last). We watched Grotesquerie, which had a rather odd episode and we weren’t sure if that was the season finale or not, but a search on-line this morning revealed there are three more, two coming next week and the finale on the day before Halloween. We also watched another episode of Only Murders in the Building, which was fun, and we also watched a lot of Skate America before watching our shows. I should have probably written more than I did this weekend, but it’s fine. I’ll do some tonight after work, and hopefully get a chance to read as well. I am most likely going to leave for Kentucky either this weekend or the one after; I haven’t really decided yet.

It’s been a bit of an off kind of spooky season for me this year. I am reading horror, as I had wanted to, but am a little disappointed at how slow my reading is going this year, but I should get some good reading done while I am at Dad’s; I am kind of leaning towards going the weekend after, to be honest; I kind of feel like I need to get through this week and another weekend before I head up north. I also keep getting confused because LSU usually plays Alabama the first weekend of November, and this year it’s a week later because of how the weeks and days fall; so I keep thinking the bye week is this weekend but it’s not. LSU plays A&M Saturday in a night game, then has the weekend off before playing Alabama. I also have a lot of doctor’s appointments, too, that I have to figure out. I have two this Thursday so I’ll need to take time off that day; I may try to get the one scheduled for the following week rescheduled to the same day, or move it further back. That’s why I need to get this figured out, either today or tomorrow. Heavy heaving sigh.

Now that I’m waking up I feel a lot better this morning. I’ll probably go ahead and shower once I finish this, and then I can read for the rest of the morning until it’s time to leave for the training/Development Day. So exciting, right? Sparky also continues to be a bit on the sullen side about his claws being trimmed back, but I did pick him up and put him on my shoulders and he was fine up there without needing them to dig into my skin to stay up there, so that was a win-win. (I also think going back to the vet’s gave him flashbacks of his pre-adoptive life, which he didn’t appreciate, either.) I think I’ll decide about my trip over the course of the day, and make my decision. This weekend seems awful soon to take the time off already, so I am definitely leaning toward the weekend of the 2nd of November, LSU’s bye week. I can watch games on that Saturday, get up and drive on Sunday, and can drive home on Friday. That just makes the most sense to me; it gives me this weekend to get my shit together for the trip and get the apartment into some semblance of order before I leave, and it’ll be easier–much easier–with an extra week to get it all together.

And now I am waking up enough to feel like oh yes I need to get my life back on track after this lazy weekend, and so, on that note, it’s time for me to head into the spice mines for the day and get my act together, so have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll see you later.

Ruby Baby

And Saturday morning has rolled around again, and it’s a lovely morning here in the Lost Apartment. The LSU game tonight is being televised (SEC Network) so I can flip back and forth between LSU and the Georgia-Alabama game. There aren’t many games on today that I feel the need to watch or even follow, but I can have the games on while I do other things. Yesterday I ended up taking the day off–I didn’t know how long I’d be out with the errands so I just bit the bullet and took a personal day. It ended up being a lovely day; the weather was very spectacular; in the heat of the summer it’s easy to forget how gorgeous it is here the rest of the year. After the errands were done, I finished reading Jordan Harper’s superb Everybody Knows (more on that later), cleaned up the house some, and had a rather nice day at home with Sparky. I think for the weekend I am going to reread two rather short horror novels to get in the mood for Halloween Horror Month, and the first read of that month will be Gabino Iglesias’ House of Rain and Bone.

We started watching Grotesquerie last night, and it’s really superb. Niecy Nash-Betts is a fantastic actress with incredible range, and this part is perfect for her. The show is very creepy and reminiscent in some ways of the classic Seven, from the 1990’s with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman (which is also my favorite Gwyneth Paltrow film), and we were sucked in again. I hope the show doesn’t wind up going off the rails, as so many of Murphy’s shows do, but I am looking forward to watching. I’m actually also still thinking about Monsters–isn’t the point of great art to unsettle you, make you see things from a different perspective, and perhaps even change your mind about something? I don’t know that I’m interested in learning any more about the case–not doing any deep dives into the Menendez case, but watching the show did give a fresh perspective on the case, and society and the culture have changed significantly since the murders and the trials.

I do have some errands to run today–I need to get the mail, drop books off at the library sale, wash the car, and make a grocery run. I ordered a new desk chair (my old one was torn to shreds by Skittle…and he’s been gone for fourteen years) because this old one is definitely ready to be retired and sent to the dumpster. I don’t think I am going to cook out this weekend–unless I decide to barbecue that pork tenderloin in the freezer; tenderloin always tastes better when it’s got a bit of burnt crust. Note to self: either set it out to defrost or get something else at the Fresh Market for dinner tomorrow. Of course, I could just get a pizza for tomorrow…decisions, decisions. I also want to make some more progress on the book today and the Scotty Bible; I need to mark pages in the last two Scotty books, and I am also trying to decide how this current one works out (I did solve problems I was having with two other works-in-progress, Muscles and Chlorine; reading good writers always gives me inspiration for my own; thanks, Jordan!). The Saints play the Dirty Birds tomorrow, and I’ll probably do a grocery run tomorrow, too. I also want to get caught on some blog posts that have been in drafts for a while, and I’ve not done a Substack in quite a while–you can’t build an audience (I blocked a right-winger yesterday who started following me; no fucking thanks, treasonous scum) without posting.

And there’s always, always, cleaning to do.

But…truth be told, I don’t feel anxious or stressed about anything. That’s actually kind of lovely, you know? I also want to watch Saturday Night Live tonight–at least the cold open, I can always stream it tomorrow–but not sure if I want to stay up that late. I stayed up later than I intended to last night, which was fine, but I managed to get up at eight anyway (thanks to Sparky) and I feel good today. I need some more coffee and some breakfast, and to get cleaned up, but I kind of want to get the kitchen and so forth under control before I run my errands before coming home to watch games and do things. I had the Eras tour on yesterday while I read and cleaned, and it really is very excellent; reminding me again of what a force of talented creativity Taylor Swift is–and the way those massive crowds react to her is really something to see, the joy on the faces of people actually there as they dance and sing along with her as she puts on a helluva show. (I still wish she’d done “Red,” but her choices from the Red album were pretty good ones, and the ten-minute version of “All Too Well” certainly belongs on the set list.) So, of course MAGA has targeted her–they want to kill all joy. Period. The Joy Killers is what we should be calling them.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close so I can get more coffee and have breakfast. Have a spectacular Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back for sure.

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