Tag: family

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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I Cried a Tear

Well, it’s back to the office Monday and I am feeling pretty good about the weekend. Did I get everything done I needed to get done? Of course not, I never do. But the house is in good enough shape that if I maintain it every night then next weekend I can move on to some further cleaning/organization/declutter project because I don’t have to start over catching up on the the basics yet again. I also made dinner last night for the first time in forever, actually cooking, and it was kind of nice and the meal was actually quite good. I also was creative this weekend, and maybe very little actual writing was done but a lot of planning and thinking about the projects and so forth that need to be worked on and I also had a lot of really good ideas. I started thinking about the projects in terms of what I was trying to do, what the point of the story was, and how best to get the message across to the readers while also telling a compelling story. This is the kind of thing I miss doing, and am usually so rushed with impending deadlines and so forth that I don’t have enough prep time before I start writing, if that makes any sense? It did to me, and I think that’s another reason I have Imposter Syndrome on a regular basis; I kind of leap blindly into the project and hope that it works out all right.

I slept very well last night and didn’t want to get up this morning (or at least out of bed, which was warm and comfortable), but as I swill this first cup of coffee I am starting to come to life and that’s a good thing. I am not patient-facing today–it’s my in-office administrative day, and I am pretty caught up on my work. The downstairs looks nice and neat and orderly this morning; there’s dirty dishes in the sink, of course, but that’s easily rectified. On the way home tonight I have to stop and get the mail and pick up a prescription. I am leaving for Alabama/Kentucky the week after next, and so that’ll be nice. I’ll take some books to read, and I imagine we’ll do some sight-seeing in Kentucky while I am up there this year. It’s nice visiting Dad, and seeing my sister. Mom’s death brought the survivors closer together, which is nice. They still live too far away for regular visits, but it’s nice to be closer to them both.

Overall, it was a nice weekend. I got some rest and recovery time, and feel much better this morning than I did any morning this weekend–which might be related to staying in bed longer–and we started watching a terrific new show last night called Vigil, which is from the same team that did Line of Duty, which was exceptional. Vigil, which isn’t something I thought I’d be too keen on–a murder mystery on a nuclear submarine that also includes international intrigue on top of the crime–but always trust people who’ve produced another show you liked, really; Vigil is superb (submarines absolutely terrify me–my claustrophobia would drive me insane within an hour of getting on board, and if it didn’t before, it would definitely happen once we submerged; this is why that novel The Chill by Nick Cutter was so unsettling–underwater in a submarine in the dark. No fucking thanks) and absorbing. I cannot wait to watch more of it tonight after writing and doing some more clean-up around here. My writing goals for this week are to make more progress on the book, finish revising “Passenger to Franklin” and “When I Die,” and get a good night’s rest. I also have some emails to reply to, as well as some others I need to generate. I did make progress on finishing some of these draft posts I’ve had in the files forever–some going back as many as four years (I wrote down my initial impressions of January 6, which I do need to finish since we are heading for another precipice)–and it’s nice to get some of this stuff cleaned out. I still have more drafts back there than needed; I think there are numerous ones that can be actually combined, since I started a related topic more than once, methinks–usually because something makes me angry or frustrated enough to forget oh yes, started something on this very subject several times already, maybe should combine them all into one.

I also want to finish the blog posts about my books already published. I am not sure where I left off–I know the last one I did was for Dark Tide, but I think I’ve already done The Orion Mask, which leaves Timothy because I know I did a lot of promotional posts for both Bury Me in Shadows and #shedeservedit. I’ve also already done the most recent Scotty books, too–I think I’ve covered that entire series already. I know the last Chanse book is still there in the drafts, too–I thought I’d need to reread it since it’s been so long since I wrote it, which isn’t a bad idea. I don’t really remember Chanse’s voice, and am not sure I can still hear it if I want to. I know I’ve written a Chanse short story since the series ended, and I have a Chanse novella in progress that went off track and needs to be steered back onto the tracks. I do have another idea for a Chanse book, but I am thinking he might just be a supporting character and I can center the book from another point of view, which could be interesting. See what I mean? My creativity has really come roaring back.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get cleaned up to head into the spice mines. I hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again a little later.

Doesn’t look like he likes the photographer’s direction to “arch your back a little and stick your butt out”, does he?

Bad Girls

Thursday morning and I could have slept later for sure, LOL. But I did sleep well, which was nice despite being so rudely interrupted by my alarm. I have to get up early again tomorrow for PT before I drive to Alabama, but now I can listen to The Drowning Tree by Carol Goodman in the car (I started it when I drove to Florida last fall, but the drive was too short for me to finish, sadly), so hurray! And it’s better than driving to Kentucky, which I will be doing later this spring probably (unless airfares dramatically drop by then, which I rather doubt).

Yesterday was a weird day, obviously. I wasn’t feeling like myself yesterday. I didn’t sleep as deeply Tuesday night as I would have liked, and of course, it was probably sublimated grief. I managed to get my work done at the office, saw all my appointments and made groceries on the way home. The store was crowded, of course, because men were there buying flowers and chocolates and things for their significant others, which always makes me snicker to myself. I have a lot of thoughts about Valentine’s Day, most of them negative, but it’s going to always be the anniversary of Mom’s death from now on, and probably best to not talk about the so-called holiday going forward. The day will probably always be melancholy and sad going forward, and I really need to let go of the “stiff upper lip” thing and grieve. I have sublimated a lot of it by worrying about Dad, which I don’t think is all that healthy for me. Something else to work on for this year, I guess.

I was pretty tired when I got home, and so didn’t do a whole lot of anything. I had intended to empty the dishwasher and finish the laundry (it just needs to be folded and put away) but once I sat down, there was no getting back up again other than for necessities. Sparky is a bad influence, of course; all he wants from me when I get home is attention and it’s so easy to give in to quality time with my cat. He’s getting bigger and bigger every day, and getting smarter, too. Remember how I thought he turned the washing machine on by accident? Not an accident. If the washing machine lid is up, he’ll turn it on to watch it fill up with water, and stands on the dryer watching. So, not an accident, but deliberate. He’s also learned how to open the freezer, so I had to blockade the top of the refrigerator so he can’t climb or jump up there from the counter, which explains all those times I’ve found the freezer slightly open and not sealed and just thought need to be better about closing that.

Nope, it’s just Sparky. He is so lucky he’s adorable.

I also woke up this morning to yet another scandal about the Hugo Awards lighting up social media, making me glad my creativity doesn’t loan itself to the writing of science fiction. We do have our blow-ups in the crime fiction community (see Bouchercon 2024), but at least it’s never about the awards. Probably be more on that later–I’ve been itching to write about the Bouchercon 2024 kerfuffle and some other things going on in my corner of publishing, but it’s something that needs a gentle, delicate touch and probably needs to be more of an essay written off-line than an off-the-top of my head blog entry.

We finished season two of Abbott Elementary and started season three last night, which means we’ll be looking for something else to watch. I am intrigued by The New Look, which seems to be bent on portraying Coco Chanel as a resistance heroine, while ignoring her closeness to the Nazi occupation leaders during the actual war. It’s never been proven she was a collaborator, but it definitely tarnished her reputation a bit, and glossing over it doesn’t seem to be the right answer. I could be wrong, but I’ve never cared enough about clothes and fashion or Chanel to bother to read up on it and “do my own research”, as they say all over social media.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Have a great Thurday, Constant Reader, and I’ll chat at you probably later on.

Amazing Grace

Wednesday and the parades are rolling again tonight. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with this, to be honest. I can’t believe it’s the final weekend of Mardi Gras madness already, can you? I have to run a couple of errands today after leaving work, trying to get it all accomplished and get my ass home while it’s still possible to find a place to park. Much as I don’t want to deal with the errands tonight, tomorrow would be even more difficult as it’s Muses Thursday, and going straight home from work is no guarantee I can park within a mile of the house. Sigh. The pleasure of living inside the box, right?

I was super tired when I got home yesterday, and I never did feel like I was fully awake all day, to be honest. I was finally able to get my night time prescription refilled again, after the first pill bottle mysteriously disappeared (all fingers point at Sparky, and it’s probably under the dishwasher or the couch), and so I had to adjust back from one medication (I still had my old night time medication) to the right one again, which would explain why yesterday I never felt like my brain escaped the fog. Today is, in fact, the first day in a long time where I’ve felt mentally alert again, which is great. It’s terrible when you’re not on your game, and you aren’t sure why; now that I am in my sixties mental things are much more alarming than they used to be–and some memories I’ve forgotten are so forgotten even when I am reminded, in great detail, I don’t remember anything about it. That’s disturbing on a very deep level; my mental acuity is something I do worry about as I get older. We don’t have any mental deterioration diseases in the family as far as I can remember–I need to ask Dad about that, along with any other genetic conditions he and Mom might have or know about within the family (we aren’t a family that talks about that sort of thing much; I think it’s mostly because we have so much genetic tendency to faulty wiring in our brains to begin with)–but I think I’d know about it if it was in the immediate family.

Anyway, tonight when I get home from work I need to do some laundry and the dishes. I don’t know if I’ll go out to the corner tonight or not, but all signs point to not. Nyx is the final parade tonight, and as far as I know, Nyx is still a horrific white supremacy krewe (last year my mind was not on Carnival), so I don’t know if I’d want to go to that even if I didn’t have to get up so early in the morning tomorrow. I do need to write about that at some point, don’t I? The great thing about being a crime writer is you never run out of prejudice, bigotry and hate to write about.

It looks like I’ll be going to Alabama to see family and visit Mom’s grave next weekend; Dad is going down for the anniversary of losing her, and I’ll go up and meet him up there for the weekend. It’s just easier, really, for me to go instead of my sister, and I don’t think Dad should do these grave visits without one of us there for him. It’s also kind of for me; it’s just easier mentally and emotionally to focus on Dad’s loss rather than my own. It’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with it, but this is how I generally deal with any kind of personal loss or tragedy in my life: focus on the grief of others. I also suppose that the impending anniversary (today, I think, is the anniversary of her final stroke? It’s all murky to me other than knowing she died on Valentine’s Day) has probably also been working on me subconsciously (subconscious BASTARDS!!!) and could have something to do with the foggy funk I’ve been in lately, in addition to the unfortunate medication change of the last couple of weeks.

I didn’t watch the Grammys the other night, but I did watch the Tracy Chapman/Luke Combs “Fast Car” performance on Youtube, which brought back a lot of memories. “Fast Car” was a very important song in the development of my life and my adulthood; the lyrics of feeling trapped and needing to escape a toxic life situation resonated very deeply with Double Life Gregalicious, and helped start the process of finally merging those two very separate mentally unhealthy existences, which is something else I should blog about–but it was amazing seeing the audience reaction to a middle-aged out Black lesbian, and I’m going to have to listen to her album again; it’s been a hot minute. But thanks again, for your voice and your music and your soul, Ms. Chapman.

I did edit a short story–or started editing, at any rate–last night, and it really is amazing what you don’t see when you’re in the midst of writing it and when you come back to it again after a lengthy period of time. “How the hell did I not see how clunky that sentence is?” was constantly running through my mind, and I also realized what the point of the story was–he’s reached his breaking point, and I need to communicate that to the reader more clearly than in the original draft. It felt good, you know, to work on something, and feel like I was doing some good polishing work on it. I really do love writing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely check in again with some more blatant self-promotion later.

Keep the Fire Burnin’

Monday morning and back to the office, with parades starting this weekend and how did it get to be parade season so damned fast? I slept decently last night, but it’s cold (not as cold as it’s been though) again this morning and the heater ran all night so downstairs doesn’t feel chippy the way it was when it was ultra cold. I have PT tonight after I get off work, too, which is going to be challenging again as I suspect my weights will go up. I don’t know about the kettlebell exercise; how well will I do with it today? Balance has never been one of my strengths. after all, and that was the primary problem I had with the kettlebell thing the other day. I am not client-facing today, either, which is nice. I didn’t get nearly enough done this weekend as I would have liked–what else is new, really–and so I am facing down yet another week of work in the office with parades on the horizon and next weekend being even a wilder weekend of parades and so forth.

We did watch the figure skating yesterday to see Ilia Malinin take his second US title; Paul mentioned this was probably the first time he could remember all four winners in all four disciplines not skating a clean final program. He may be right–its unusual for ice dancers to make major and noticeable mistakes–but I can’t remember who has won national titles over the years anymore. I used to remember, but I don’t anymore. I am comforting myself with this particular lack of memory being explained away as “well, you’re older and thus have more to remember than you used to”, which is a bit of a comfort. I also kept track of the football games without watching; happy for Taylor and the Chiefs as well as a little disappointed that the Lions didn’t make their first ever super bowl; remembering that magic year when the Saints went to and won their first always makes me hope that some other city and fan-base gets to experience that magical delirium the way we did all those years ago. (I inevitably always will root for the underdog; it’s just how I’ve always been.) But congratulations to both the Chiefs and the 49ers for making the Super Bowl. One fanbase is going to be really happy in a couple of weeks. So does that mean the Super Bowl is also on Bacchus Sunday? Guess I won’t be watching–not that I would have in the first place, not being a fan of either team…but it is fun watching Taylor Swift trigger the MAGAts.

I didn’t read much this weekend either. I didn’t write or read much, but I did put a lot of thought into writing–you know, the writing-in-your-head thing that we all do and absolutely it counts as writing, thank you very much. I had kind of gotten lost in the story currently under construction, and then of course while watching something this weekend it occurred to me that I needed a different opening and then it hit me how to finish the story, and how the end needed to be threaded throughout the story…so I decided that I am, indeed, going to start rewriting it from the beginning and hopefully that will give me the impetus to get the story’s first draft finished so I can move on to the next one whose ending I’ve also solved in my head already before moving on to one that I already know the ending of but don’t know the middle. Heavy heaving sigh–it’s always something, isn’t it?

(I did start reading the novelization of The Last of Sheila, which will be discussed at greater length once I finish it.)

And now January is almost finished. I cannot believe this Thursday is the 1st–yay, all the bills are coming due again–but that’s cool. I think I am going to just take Lundi Gras off so I can have a four day weekend and won’t have to mess with trying to get to work or dealing with getting home that day. PT is also going to be a major bitch to try to figure out along the way as well. This week isn’t so bad, I have it scheduled for Friday morning and I have another appointment that morning as well, but next week? Monday should be fine, and if I can schedule it for Friday morning that should be perfect. I can also go on Lundi Gras in the morning, and then we will have made it through parade season. I also have an appointment with my surgeon later in February, so I can find out how much more PT I have to endure before I am considered healed again.

It’s kind of weird that I’ve been dealing with this for over a year now, isn’t it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines to get my day going. Have a lovely Monday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.