Tag: Judi Densch

Get Closer

Monday before the surgery and all is peaceful in the Lost Apartment this morning. I still don’t know what time the surgery is going to be–they’ll be calling me later today with the time to be at the hospital (in METAIRIE)–and I am trying to have an easy day of staying calm and centered as I prepare mentally and emotionally for tomorrow. Last night I had a complete anxiety attack about everything, and even as I spiraled I knew what was happening, what was causing it and why–but that only made it a bit easier. I was concerned I might not be able to shut my mind off and sleep, but that wasn’t a problem. I fell asleep in a matter of moments after going to bed. I also slept deeply and well, feeling great and rested this morning. I have to check up on a few things to make sure things that needed to be done were done and taken care of–the anxiety from last night spiraled out of worry that the form my surgeon needed to fax to HR at the day job wasn’t sent–but even if it wasn’t, I can stay calm and probably get it all taken care of either today or tomorrow before the surgery; I can bring the form with me and Paul can FAX it to HR for me in a worst case scenario if I am too drugged out to deal with it when we get home. I am completely calm and rational about it all this morning–maybe sometimes I need to spiral and work through it to be calm the next day, I don’t know. But I am calm this morning, and rested, and relaxed. Once I finish this, I’ll check with HR to see if the form was received and if not, I’ll work on getting it filled out and returned. I don’t have to go into the office today–today is prep for surgery day, and I didn’t really see how that would work with me going in.

Why does everything have to be difficult? I suppose because otherwise life would be too easy to navigate.

We watched more Happy Valley last night, and this show is exceptionally good. British crime dramas are somehow always better than American ones–even Paul pointed out last night that “British actors look like real people and are super talented. Why do Americans focus on appearance so much?”–which is the source material for an entire other essay; you don’t see Helen Mirren and Maggie Smith and Judi Densch getting their faces shot up with poison and fillers and having everything nipped and tucked and made more generic with a scalpel to the point where their faces don’t move and they’ve become basically voice actors. Paul stayed up super late Saturday night writing a grant, so he slept most of the day and I was left to my own devices. I finished reading Lou Berney’s superb Dark Ride and started J. D. O’Brien’s Zig Zag, which I am also really enjoying. I also did some cleaning and organizing around here to try to make my workspace more functional and more Big Kitten Energy proof–it gets old having to pick up papers and re-sort them every morning because he went bounding around over everything while having the middle of the night Zoomies. It does look better organized this morning and more functional, even if it’s not complete, so we will see how it goes. I also watched another episode of Moonlighting–some are kind of hit and miss, which I didn’t remember from my original watch as it aired back in the 1980’s. Moonlighting had become a hit by then, and was starting to draw big name guest stars. Yesterday’s was Lisa Blount, who enjoyed some success in the 1980’s, but probably is best known for her supporting role in An Officer and a Gentleman–a movie I am relatively certain did not age well. It wasn’t a great episode–it was merely okay, with a clever enough plot and some good banter between David and Maddie; the chemistry was clearly there for them, but it’s another one of those “opposites attract” kind of things, which was only just then turning into a thing for television shows, primarily triggered by the popularity of the Sam and Diane pairing on Cheers that dominated the ratings and the Emmys for the entire decade of the 1980s. Now we’re so used to it that it’s tired, but back in the 1980’s the question of when David and Maddie would get together was something everyone was talking about every week.

I’m trying not to worry about the recovery for the surgery too much–thinking about the physical therapy and so forth was what sent my brain into the spiral last night–how can I be trusted to do things correctly when I’m such a fuck-up? I had one of those moments when Paul came home after his original eye surgery–I am not a trained caregiver! What if I do something wrong?–because I had to, among other things, clean the socket for him every day and apply antibiotic drops and things, and once he was home I was fucking terrified. And it was fine. His socket healed, I didn’t kill him or cause an infection, and we both survived the entire thing. I am a little anxious about Paul as caregiver, but that’s terribly unfair. On the rare occasions when I am actually sick he’s taken very good care of me, and so what if he doesn’t have a lot of experience with caregiving? Neither did I, and I’ve become very good at it over the years.

It’s kind of easy when you don’t have a choice.

And on that note, I am going to do some cleaning and organizing before reaching out to HR to see if there is anything I need to follow up on today. I’ll probably be around again later–I keep meaning to do more blatant self-promotional posts, but as the surgery date draws closer my mind just hasn’t been in that place. So have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

eye in the sky

So it’s Monday morning and I took the day off from work, as I have to head out to Metairie for my pre-operation meetings and clearances and so forth. Woo-hoo. But at least today I expect to know what my recovery is going to look like, and how much time I will actually need to be out of the office. I didn’t sleep great on Saturday night, despite LSU’s big win over Florida, and was up before seven yesterday morning and not really feeling like doing much of anything. I did spend some time with Lou Berney’s delightful Dark Ride, which is like nothing he’s done before–something I always deeply admire with authors–and I really love the voice of his main character. There’s a reason Lou’s won every conceivable award from crime fiction writing; his work is exceptional and I only wish he were more prolific. Hardly is memorable, for many reasons that I cannot wait to get into when I’ve finished reading the book.

The Saints played abysmally yesterday, so I was glad I decided I was too drained already to expand any more emotional energy on watching the game. I was very low energy all weekend, which isn’t surprising, given that I’m kind of dreading the information I am going to be getting today even as I know it’s information that I need to have in order to make decisions that need to be made. Heavy sigh, yes, small wonder I was low energy all weekend. But that’s okay; I did actually think about writing this weekend, and did some of the mental groundwork and even wrote a scene in longhand in my journal, of all things. I also started coming up with names for characters for the next book, which is always fun, and started thinking about which direction to take the story. This is progress, and I will accept that gratefully without flagellating myself or wishing I had produced more and had written something on the computer.

I’m not going to lie, my anxiety is spiking this morning and so I am going to need to struggle a bit with it this morning. I know I’m just borrowing trouble, and being anxious or nervous about the appointments this morning will not change and/or affect what I am going to be told today, which is knowledge I am going to try to use as I sit here to calm my nerves and keep my adrenaline from spiking. I’m going to take Lou’s book with me this morning to read while I wait at the surgeon’s office, and thank God for good books with great writing from talented friends, right? It’s weird to think I’m having surgery next week and it’s also Thanksgiving week, too. I am not sure what we’re going to do for the holiday, since it’s two days after my surgery, but I can get some things over the weekend for it and hopefully it won’t be too big of a deal to make pulled turkey in the crockpot, but then how will I shred the meat with just one hand? A conundrum, for sure. I am going to probably be learning all kinds of lessons in these coming weeks about how imperative it is to have two hands–which is ableist thinking, I know; some people make do their entire lives with merely one hand.

The big news in college football is that Texas A&M went ahead and fired their head coach, Jimbo Fisher, triggering the biggest payout ever for a fired football coach. I thought, at the time, that the contract extension was insane; all he’d managed to do was take A&M to a one-loss season during a pandemic and a limited schedule. They finished in the top ten that year, if I am remembering correctly, but they still didn’t win their division or make it to Atlanta, so I thought it was presumptuous. Of course, this was also right around the time that it was becoming apparent that LSU was going to fire Ed Orgeron, and Fisher had been a target before Orgeron was hired….so A&M was preemptively moving to keep their coach from leaving for Baton Rouge. But A&M underperformed other than that one season, and it was a very bad deal–it’s costing them almost eighty million dollars to fire Fisher, which is also going to create a massive mess for hiring a replacement and for the replacement as well. Fisher was terminated immediately and not being allowed to finish out the season, so when A&M rolls into Tiger Stadium Thanksgiving weekend, they’ll be led by an interim coach. It’s not the first time the LSU-A&M game has had an interim head coach calling the game, either, nor will it be the last, most likely. I mean, seriously–how much money do the Aggie Exes have, for Christ’s sake?

Apparently, a lot. I would imagine the Longhorns are even richer, and they’ll be in the SEC next year.

We finished watching Karen Pirie last night, and it was on the third episode that I realized I’d read the book on which it was based–The Distant Echo, which I had greatly enjoyed. We also are watching the second season of the Jane Seymour crime series, Harry Wild, which is enjoyable–and applause for Ms. Seymour for allowing herself to age gracefully. There you see the primary difference between British and American actresses; Maggie Smith, Diana Rigg, Helen Mirren and Judi Densch have allowed themselves to age, and it’s a beautiful thing to see–whereas American actresses their age now have rigid faces filled with Botox and filler and with all their skin pulled back tightly. It always seemed to me that having a face incapable of movement or expressing emotion would be a negative for an actress, but their insecurities and fears are also predicated on generations of youth worship in Hollywood and sweeping actresses out the door once they’ve hit forty. (In All About Eve the age issue for Margo was turning forty; that same year Sunset Boulevard gave us fifty-year-old has-been Gloria Swanson. The irony that Jessica Lange and That Woman were twenty years older when they played Crawford and Davis in Feud–in which the two fifty-something women miraculously revived their careera–wasn’t lost on this viewer.)

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and start getting ready for this morning’s round of pre-surgery appointments. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back this afternoon for some blatant self-promotion.

Midnight Train to Georgia

Thursday morning, my first cup of coffee and there’s condensation all over my office windows. There’s mess everywhere in the Lost Apartment this morning–which means, of course, that it’s Thursday. My Monday thru Wednesday work days are lengthy and exhausting so I rarely have the energy to do much of anything on those nights when I get home from work, other than watch a little television, write a bit, and possibly read some. Last night I got home from work, moved a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, started another load in the washing machine, wrote six or seven hundred words, than escaped to my easy chair. I’m watching a lovely documentary in bits and pieces–Tea with the Dames, on Hulu, which is just Maggie Smith, Judi Densch, Eileen Atkins, and Joan Plowright, talking about their careers, their long friendships, and gossiping about other actors and directors they’ve worked with. It’s quite charming, actually, and then Paul was ready to watch another episode of The Boys, which continues to amaze and impress me.

It’s also now August this morning, so that means there are only nineteen shopping days left before my birthday, so I strongly suggest and recommend you get started looking for my gifts now, okay? It’ll save you so much stress if you do it now, and beat the inevitable crowds that are certain to form the closer the actual day comes.

The big project I’m working on that dropped into my lap lately moves closer to completion; or at least, closer to my part being finished; I’ve acknowledged that after a certain point my assistance is moot and would be useless, but I can get a lot of the groundwork finished to begin with, which is in my wheelhouse, and we’re almost there.

As I said earlier, I only managed 700 or so words on the WIP last night, which isn’t terrific, but there are certainly worse things. Writing this book has been like pulling teeth almost from the very beginning, and doesn’t seem to get any easier the closer I get to the end. But that’s okay; I like the way it’s all coming together, despite the roughness of the words and the writing, it’s just taking me a hot minute to get everything finished, and that’s fine. I’m not so sure I know how to make the Kansas book–which I’ll be revising for the final time once I finish writing this draft–go faster than this; I am doing some heavy revisions and heavy lifting with it (I am literally stunned–and glad I waited on it–to see how many high school tropes and stereotypes I played into with this particular manuscript; I mean, literally–pick one and I can almost certainly let you know that it was included in this book), but I am confident I know what to do with it and am hoping I’ll get through it relatively quickly. I’m kind of glad another project I was scheduled to start working on today has been moved back another couple of months–dealing with it while trying to get this other stuff done (especially the one that dropped out of nowhere into my lap) would have sent me straight to the Xanax bottle. As it is, I have some other odds and ends I need to get done that I don’t seem to have the energy to get to once I do everything else for that day; perhaps one morning this weekend I’ll simply focus on those things and get them out of the way once and for all. I have three short stories promised to write, two of which I haven’t the slightest idea of what the story actually is; I definitely need to set aside some time to brainstorm those as deadlines are looming and drawing nearer and nearer.

And I really need to clean out my email inbox once and for all.

I also agreed to participate in a round table discussion about an aspect of writing–you know me, I never say no since I’m always flattered to be thought of and included in the first place–but yesterday I took a look at the questions and JFC, they are way over my head and slightly too smart for me; answering and participating is going to probably make me look stupid. (Shut up, Bryon.) But I agreed to do it, so I am going to print out the questions this weekend and look them over, because they do require thought rather than off-the-top-of-my-head answers. (Let me put it to you this way; the very first question revolves around an Octavia Butler novel…so you see how far it’s over my head already.)

This morning I feel very rested and very good; I feel like I can conquer the world today, which is always a plus and it’s also been a hot minute since I’ve felt this way.

I got some more books yesterday–Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction by Patricia Highsmith (I am literally drooling to start this); Love and Death in the Sunshine State: The Story of a Murder by Cutter Wood; and The Women of Dauphine by Deb Jannerson, a queer y/a set in New Orleans by a local writer; I don’t recall how I heard about this book, but I did and now I have it. I’ve not read a New Orleans novel in a while, and it might be fun to read another writer’s take on our diverse, vibrant city. I’m actually not sure how I heard about any of these books, to be honest–other than Sarah Weinman was talking about the Highsmith on Twitter last week and convinced me I needed to read it. I generally don’t read how-to-write books anymore (other than John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction, which I primarily read, and reread, for enjoyment because Gardner was such a pompous, pretentious ass, which comes through loud and clear with every sentence–it helps whenever I want to create a character who is a pompous ass literary writer), but Sarah (who has to date never been wrong with recommending something to me) said it’s not only a writing guide but also sort of a memoir, and Highsmith was not only an unpleasant person but she embraced her unpleasantness, which is kind of lovely and fun and admirable–and probably fun to read. I love her novels–I’ve not read the entire canon, and I never finished the Ripley series other than the first one–and I should probably start working my way through the canon at some point. I’ve never been disappointed with a Highsmith, and the last two I read–The Cry of the Owl and The Blunderer, were simply genius and devilishly clever).

I also want to finish reading Steph Cha’s Your House Will Pay, which I’ve been recommending to all my co-workers.

Okay, that’s enough morning reflection. I need another cup of coffee, and I think I’m going to do some chores around answering emails this morning.

Have a lovely Friday Eve, everyone!

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