Tag: Jack’s

I Miss You

EDITORIAL NOTE: I started writing this Friday morning, but didn’t finish it until this morning.

Friday in Alabama!

Yesterday was an okay day for the most part. I got up feeling pretty rested–good Lord, the bed and blankets are so damned comfortable–and departed for work. I was fine at work all day and was able to get a lot done before I left at noon. I went home, packed, cleaned a little bit, and headed out. There was some traffic around Mobile, but it was a relatively easy drive and I was deeply enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42. I stopped at the new Buc-ee’s in Mississippi for gas, and got lunch at Jack’s in Creota, Alabama. I got here about six o’clock, very tired, and hung out with Dad for a while. Today I am driving him over to my aunt’s to help her get things ready at the church for the funeral, before coming back here to get ready myself. I also have to stop somewhere to get the things I forgot to pack (can’t replace my hearing aids charger, so I’ll be going deaf for the service) and I am not sure what the day holds after that. I am waiting for Dad right now to come get me so I can drive him over there. There’s a Walmart here, so I am going to swing by there either this morning or later on today to get some things that I need. Honestly! But everything I forgot was not written down on my packing list, which just goes to show me that the list MUST BE THOROUGH. I woke up several times during the night, but the bed was very comfortable but I think I’ll hit a wall later today, too. I am driving back to New Orleans tomorrow morning, and should be home by the mid/early afternoon.

The funeral service was actually quite lovely, and I met some cousins’ offspring and grandchildren I’d never met before, and saw some other relatives that I see more regularly than, well, I guess never? After the church service we went to the graveside service, which, given it was hot and the sun was out and we were all wearing black dress clothes…well, maybe the preacher might have wanted to consider that before he started talking? But these things—and my relatives—always make me think about church and religion. I’m always so caught off guard by how devoted they are, and how much church is pretty much a routine part of their lives. I’ve always wondered how it felt to believe without doubt, which I’ve never been able to master when I was trying as a teenager. But my sister—who came around eventually-and I weren’t raised in the church, just around it. The beliefs and values of the Church of Christ were installed in us by everyone around us as children, and even when I started going with Mom and my sister when I was in high school, I still wasn’t quite all the way there—even when I was active in the Youth Group, and went three times a week to services and sang the hymns and said amen after every prayer. Religion is really about the fear of death, and the fear of the unknown, I realized at the graveside service, and morbid as it sounds, I don’t think I ever had that powerful fear of death motivating me to believe. I somehow somewhere believed I was going to die young , so it’s quite a jolt sometimes to realize I did grow old.

I have had a lot of close calls, though—but that’s a story for another time.`

I also finished the editing job, too, which turned out to be way more fun than I expected—the material is brilliant—and can’t wait to talk about it more when it’s closer to release. I also worked on my next newsletter last night before going to bed—back to Scotty promo stuff, after all the new subscribers I picked up eulogizing Lauren last weekend—hope they aren’t bored! I’ll probably finish it tonight before bed, revise and edit it Sunday morning, and then send it out. I have chores to do at home, of course; don’t I always? I’ll also have to make a grocery run and order some things to be delivered.

I’m loving my new iPad and its Magic Keyboard, which basically has turned it into a laptop with a touch screen, and I actually like working on it more than my MacBook Air.

SUNDAY

Well, I didn’t quite finish that and get it posted whilst I was out of town, now, did I? I did not. I didn’t sleep great either night in the hotel–I’d forgotten my evening-anxiety-help-me-sleep medications–and so was kind of tired yesterday when I drove down the on-ramp to I-65 South. I made good time, though–a little less than four hours, because I didn’t have to stop anywhere on the way. I was plenty exhausted when I pulled up and parked in front of the house yesterday afternoon. I unloaded the car, ordered lunch to be delivered, and then collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky slept in my lap all afternoon as I watched some more of The Traitors (it was weird not even watching a single episode for several days). But after a little while, my legs were no longer exhausted and tired, so I was able to get up and do the dishes and start the laundry and picking up a bit more around here; I kind of left the place messy. I also have to take inventory and figure out what groceries are needed, so I can either order them for delivery today or stop on the way home from work tomorrow. I have to go uptown to get the mail anyway, so might as well swing by the grocery store, right?

I was greatly enjoying listening to Eli Cranor’s Mississippi Blue 42, and I am going to finish reading it in hard copy today. The drive down was nice, if I was a bit impatient to get home. There really wasn’t much traffic, and I didn’t even get terribly delayed by the infamous I-10 to I-90 ramp. My creativity also amped up yesterday as I was doing chores and watching videos on Youtube about Alabama–you know the type; “Ten Ghost Towns in Alabama” or “Twenty Cool Things You Didn’t Know About Alabama”–and they were really cool and great and interesting, and yes, gave me some ideas. I wish I had more time to take off from work so I can just go exploring, both here in Louisiana and in Alabama; I’d love to visit Moundville near Tuscaloosa again. My aunt took my sister and I there where we were kids, and the only thing I really remember was my aunt bought me a Davy Crockett raccoon skin cap, complete with the bushy tail. I’d also like to see Poverty Point here in Louisiana.

And I want to get back to writing fiction regularly again. I can get started this week, even with the Festivals coming up this weekend (AIEEEE), an of course Paul will be moving into the hotel on Wednesday night, leaving me home alone with Sparky, who will be lonely and feeling abandoned. I also have to be careful to ensure I don’t get worn out, and must reserve my energy. We certainly don’t want a repeat of last year, which resulted in me winding up in the hospital. The two things aren’t related, but my brain associates them together, alas–just like I associate Hurricane Season Hustle with being sick because it happened while I was writing the book.

And on that note, I am going to head over to my easy chair to finish reading Elis book, and figure out what to do with the rest of my day. Have a good one, and I will see you again tomorrow in the morning.

Former collegiate wrestler and now fitness influences @fitnesspeach. I do wonder if Meta will hide this image as “adult content” because a bit of cheek is exposed.

Is It Wrong (For Loving You)

Well, that was a fun, if tiring, weekend..

I got to the hotel after dark Friday and felt very tired. Dad had gone to his alma mater’s football game with two of his teammates (I started to say old in the generic sense and then realized Dad IS old and so are they so best not to, or at least write a caveat so here we are). It was a peaceful, lovely drive and I was listening to my audiobook (Paul Tremblay’s Survivor Song and I HAVE THOUGHTS), and there wasn’t much traffic, if any. It was a beautiful drive, and I never cease marveling at how beautiful Mississippi and Alabama are. I had planned on stopping to eat at the Whataburger in Tuscaloosa, but for some reason the map app did not take me that way this time; it seems like I never come up here or leave the same way twice in a row. It always takes the same amount of time, though it’s been interesting seeing parts of both states I am not familiar with. I almost stopped at a Jack’s in some small town I passed through after leaving 20/591; but I thought there would be somewhere else before getting here.

NARRATOR VOICE: There was, in fact, nowhere else.

I always forget how little there is between Meridian and Tuscaloosa, or between Birmingham and Chattanooga. It’s best to eat when you get hungry, and get gas before you get down to a quarter tank else you could be fucked. I know I’ve been ravenous sometimes when I’ve had to wait till past Chattanooga to eat, and same for going up from Mobile to Montgomery. It’s weird to feel so anchored to Alabama, isn’t it? I don’t remember living here; I was two when we moved north. We came down to visit a lot, and I know for Mom and Dad (and my grandmother who also lived in Chicago) they always referred to these trips as “going home” and so I, too, have always thought of Alabama as home in a corner of my mind. I never felt like I belonged almost everywhere I lived once I became more aware of just how different I was from everyone else. I felt displaced, like my life was supposed to have happened in Alabama but it didn’t, so in addition to feeling different I felt almost like a transient everywhere. New Orleans is home now, was always meant to be my home, and I have never felt more like I belonged than I do there. I think my life would have been very different had I grown up here, maybe even harder or more difficult; I don’t know. New Orleans and Alabama are, oddly enough, the only places where I don’t feel like a tourist.

I’ve always written about Alabama, and I do sometimes think that somehow my Alabama stories are my best work, as far as the writing is concerned. The story I’m revising right now was the first work I turned into a college writing class (after the first course I took was such a horrific, unmitigated disaster that basically pulled the rug out from under me and derailed my life for years) that not only the professor was incredibly enthusiastic about, but the entire class was as well. This was the story that made me start believing in myself a bit more after the asshole professor derailed my life2 when I was seventeen. Anyway, I digress. Driving through the countryside after getting off the interstate up there always is weird to me in many ways, because it’s so different than I remember. When I was a kid, most houses in the county were old and made of wood, and there were still tin roofs around, although mostly on barns and out buildings on the farms. Now the houses are mostly brick, there are a lot of McMansions, but there are still a lot of blighted buildings rotting and falling to pieces where they stand. There are abandoned country stores and dead gas stations, the store built from cinder blocks and the rusting pumps still out on a crumbling concrete island. It’s also funny because I wrote Bury Me in Shadows from memory, having not been up there in over twenty years, and seeing the differences now…I guess I never had to worry overmuch about basing that book in a county based on where we’re from, and the differences are so striking no one would recognize it as the same.

Saturday I went with Dad to his high school reunion lunch, which was at a nice restaurant where we always eat every time I’m up there (they have the most amazing chicken fajitas), and that was nice. We headed back to the hotel after and spent the rest of the day watching college football games. The LSU game was amazing, but they sent me into despair a lot during the night. They won the game without ever having the lead! A bitterly disappointing loss for Mississippi (how many times have their dreams died in Tiger Stadium? It’s really no wonder why they hate us so much), but a very exciting game. The Tigers are now ranked in the top ten–which is great, but a big win does not a season make, if you know what I mean–and the rest of the schedule isn’t easy, either. Two road games in a row, then Alabama before one more road game at Florida before finishing out the season with two home games in a row. There has been a lot of great football games this season already, which has made it a lot more fun to watch than it has been in years. Saturday alone, there was the LSU game; Alabama-South Carolina (Alabama eked out a two point win); Tennessee beating Florida in overtime; Penn State-USC went to overtime; Oregon beat Ohio State by one point; and Vanderbilt kept up its winning ways by beating Kentucky. I ain’t going to lie, I am rooting for Vanderbilt to have a great season.

Yesterday I drove home, finished listening to Survivor Song, and then listened to the “My Dad Wrote a Porno”. I was very tired when I got home, very tired, so I spent the day in my chair getting caught up on the news from the weekend before we started getting caught up on our shows. I went to bed early and slept well–I was tired all weekend, but had slept well both nights, but not long enough. I did sleep a little later this morning (I took the day off) than I was expecting (but I also woke up at 5:30 the first time), and feel good. There’s still some residual trip hangover today, but I don’t mind that in the least. The apartment is a mess–I left it one when I left Friday afternoon, and so that needs to be handled today and I am also going to have to run some errands and get reoriented back into normality before heading back into the office tomorrow morning bright and early. I also have some things that I need to get done today–probably will be able to get all that done this afternoon–and then probably will settle into a relaxing evening. We started watching season four of Outer Banks last night, so we’ll watch some of that I am sure.

I didn’t have time to do much reading or writing this weekend, either, but I feel like today I can get to some of that. I do want to finish Gabino’s book this week, so I can move on to another as well.

And on that note, I’m heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; one never knows.

  1. The two highways run together from Meridian to almost Georgia–somewhere in northeast Alabama at any rate; it really is always mostly a blur. ↩︎
  2. I also realized this weekend that horrible professor fucked up my life for a very long time, and I’ve never given him enough credit for unmooring me and setting me adrift. I’ve always hated him, but now I hate him even more, and what an abuse of power and control! He shouldn’t have been allowed near students under any circumstance. ↩︎