Tag: Karen Pirie

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.

Love Me Tomorrow

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and all is well. I went into the office for a meeting and stayed there to get my Monday work done, since I have appointments that morning. It was weird, like the world had tilted on its axis or something; it felt very odd being in the office (and it also freaked out co-workers, too) and while it’s the kind of thing that generally undermines my equilibrium, it was all fine. Today I am going to run to the library sale, pick up the mail, and wash the car before coming home and settling in for some reading and writing with college football on in the background. I also have to run Paul over to Costco to pick up his new glasses, so I need to figure out if there’s anything else we need from there since we will actually be there. (I can always use more K-cups for my Keurig, and since in a couple of weeks my driving will be severely restricted for three weeks, yeah, it’s better to prepare now.)

In a surprising turn of events, yesterday morning I was digging through the closet looking for a shirt I hadn’t worn in years (there are many, and it’s been a few years) when I stumbled across a pair of pants that I used to love. They were so comfortable, but they stopped fitting about twelve years ago–they were transitional pants, a pair I had bought when I realized I needed to go up a size to 32’s, which was concerning at the time, and then they became too small within a couple of years, so I thought, well, if they don’t fit I’ll take them to work to the clothing closet and showered. Lo and behold, they fit comfortably! So I guess I’ve dropped down to that size again, which is delightful, and probably a side effect to the soft food diet. But it’s delightful to be able to comfortably fit into size 32 waist pants again–I didn’t think that would ever happen, and the fact that it did while I still am above my goal weight by eight or nine pounds is very cool.

I got home from work in the mid-afternoon and the construction guys were here again, working on the deck, which meant they were right outside my windows, so there was no way with all that pounding, drilling and other miscellaneous construction noises that I could focus and do some either reading or writing, so instead I focused on chores. I got the laundry done, did some picking up around here, and also did another load of dishes. It’s really quite remarkable how much garbage and dirty laundry and dirty dishes can accumulate around here during a week. But I eventually made it to the chair so Tug could be a purring kitty donut sound asleep in my lap while I doom-scrolled social media and watched history documentaries on Youtube–more about the Byzantine Empire (which really was the Roman Empire; the West made sure they rebranded the Roman Empire while talking about it and erasing it from history–Western Europe saw themselves as the true heirs to the Romans and their civilization, even as it went on in Constantinople for another thousand years after Rome fell. The West even went so far as considering eastern Europeans uncivilized barbarians, hence the Hapsburg hegemony), and some more stuff about the Crusades. There was also an interesting documentary about what city and culture is truly the “third Rome”–was it the Ottomans with Istanbul, the Russians with Moscow, or the Holy Roman Empire with the Pope’s endorsement? (Interestingly enough, the Nazis and their Third Reich was predicated on them being the heirs of Rome and the Holy Roman Empire, with Berlin as the third Rome, so yes, that Roman influence continues on up through the twentieth century.)

I also read some more of The Rival Queens by Nancy Goldstone, the dual biography of the mother-daughter team of Catherine de Medici and her daughter Marguerite de Valois; I’ve always known and have studied up on the French wars of religion before, but I never really understood how it really all came about under Charles IX and his mother’s regency (I always focused more on the reign of Henri III, his younger brother and the end of the Valois dynasty; Henri III was also openly gay, so of course I’ve always been interested in writing about him even though he was hardly a heroic king or a good role model for future gay kings), so it’s interesting to see how Catherine, who had little to no popular support, played the two opposing parties of the Huguenots (led by her son-in-law Henri de Bourbon and his mother, Jeanne d’Albret Queen of Navarre) and the Guises (ostensibly the more popular Catholic leaders) off against each other to maintain her own power and control of the government–which in trying to keep the peace and herself in power and her son on the throne, generally tended to make things worse. She was smart, though–very smart, and she played a very dangerous game but died in power and in her bed. The French, of course, hated her because she wasn’t of Royal blood and felt their royal family had demeaned themselves by allowing her to marry into them. They called her “The Italian Woman” or “Madame Serpent” or “Queen Jezebel”–all of which were used as titles for Jean Plaidy’s romantic biographical trilogy about her life. The general French distaste for Italians also played a part in her demonization by the people, and of course her having truck with the Huguenots didn’t sit well with her Catholic subjects, despite her being the niece of a Pope and cousin to two more. As I have said before, 1559-1594 was a very interesting period in French history, and the religious question/problem also continued through the next century–leading to the fascinating period of the 1620’s, when Dumas set his The Three Musketeers.

Ah, maybe someday. Reading The Rival Queens is certainly whetting my appetite to write some French historical fiction.

We also watched another episode of Karen Pirie last night, which we are both really enjoying, but alas, I was tired and sleepy and fell asleep a couple of times during the episode. (I also had Tug sleeping either next to me or on me, so of course I kept dozing off; if they could somehow get sleeping cat/purring energy into a sleeping pill form, it would sell like crazy. Nothing puts me to sleep like that, nothing. (I also continued my rewatch of Moonlighting, with an episode that featured and centered Miss DiPesto, “North by North DiPesto”–which was cute and sweet and fun, but ultimately a subpar episode. This was when the filming and writing of the show had started falling behind, and they would give the writers a chance to catch up by doing an episode without much David and Maddie–which meant a lot less dialogue and no talking over each other. I’d forgotten they did things like this to try to catch up on their schedule, and it’s also why there were never twenty-two episodes in a season, which was standard back then; I’d also forgotten that the filming of the show–and all its behind-the-scenes trouble–only spurred on more interest in the show; I don’t think backstage drama and production issues on a television program had ever been news before Moonlighting, which tells you how important the show was culturally.)

So I am hoping to get a lot finished today before it’s time for errands and things. I will probably pay more attention to football today than I need to–LSU plays Florida tonight at home, trying for a fifth consecutive win against the Gators; Mississippi is at Georgia in a clash of Top Ten teams; and Tennessee plays Missouri in another top 25 showdown. Alabama is also at Kentucky, Auburn at Arkansas, and Texas A&M at Mississippi State, so yeah, there are some interesting games on today, so it will probably be more than background noise I have on, alas.

And after I get some things done around here in the kitchen this morning, I am going to curl up with Lou Berney’s Dark Ride and give it all my attention.

Have a great Saturday, Constant Reader!

Pressure

Tuesday and we survived Monday, did we not? Huzzah for everyone for making it through Monday.

I slept really well Sunday night and felt rested and good yesterday. I am all caught up now on day-job activities, and also started the process to take my medical leave of absence from work. Two weeks from today is the surgery, and I am already so ready to be over it and through the rehabilitative process, you have no idea, Constant Reader. Anticipation is the worst for someone with anxiety–are you tired of me bringing that up yet? I guess it’s going to take me a little while to get used to knowing precisely what is the issue in my head, after thinking I was normal (or as close to it as I could be) for most of my life and thinking that everyone’s brains functioned this way. I wasn’t terribly exhausted after work, but I ran two errands on my way home–one in Midcity, the other in Uptown–and it was pitch dark when I got home. I never get used to that, no matter how long the time change is for; it always feels later than it is and like the entire day has been wasted. Tug wanted attention so I went to my chair so he could be a kitty donut, and I watched Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, before Paul came down and we started watching Karen Pirie, the BBC series based on a Val McDermid novel–and it’s a two time-line story! I do love a dual time-line story, and this one is rather well done, too. I was dead in my chair by nine, but did my best to stay up until at least nine-thirty before going to bed. (I sound positively tragic, don’t I?) I don’t remember having this much difficulty in adjusting to the time shift, but then I have a lot more going on this year than I usually do at this time.

It is nice that it’s light out when I go to work in the mornings, though–and this morning, with it already bright outside as the sun rises over the West Bank (yes, only in New Orleans does the sun rise over the west bank–is it any wonder that we are so off-balance and not like the rest of the country here?) makes me feel a bit more awake and alert than I usually do. It does seem like all I am doing these days is waiting–waiting for the dentist to call to let me know I can pick up my teeth; waiting for the surgery; waiting for pretty much any and everything you can think of, really. I have never been known for my patience, either. I just have to get used to the idea that things are out of my control (something that never sits well with me) and I need to simply ride it out for a bit.

I did get sort of caught up on my emails yesterday–I still have a little way to go before I have an empty inbox, but the possibility is there at last, hallelujah–so progress was made, and considering how much I was avoiding answering emails for over a week, that’s definitely a positive sign and takeaway. I do have a phone appointment with my primary care physician this morning, which is cool–it seems like all I’ve been doing since I got back from Bouchercon is go to medical or dental appointments–I really do like my new primary care physician and am looking forward to working with her more in the future. It really makes a difference when you feel connected to your doctor, rather than always feeling like a bother when you go in to see them. (It also just occurred to me that those feelings may entirely be due to my anxiety; I didn’t really know my previous doctor and never really felt like I got much of a chance to get to know him, despite seeing him for nearly three years at least, if not more) I also feel a lot better this morning than I have in a long time, like the depression and anxiety and worry has finally lifted and my brain feels like its wired properly this morning. I also don’t feel tired the way I usually do on Tuesday mornings. We’ll see how long this lasts, anyway, won’t we?

I am highly amused that, feeling like I should be more handy and adventurous, I went to Lowe’s to get a wagon and blinds for my primary kitchen window–and also thought about buying either a six or eight feet ladder that I could keep outside and only bring in when I need to reach up to clean the ceiling fans. I even looked at the ladders while I was there, thinking oh I can just have it delivered so I don’t have to worry about getting it into the car and went about making my other purchases. Of course, I couldn’t get the wagon assembled and I grabbed the wrong size blinds…which means I have to go back at some point and exchange it for the right ones. (I brought the wagon to the office to see if someone –a straight guy–could figure out what I am doing wrong with attaching the wheels; I don’t trust myself that it’s defective and needs to be returned along with the blinds.) I also started laughing at myself last night–I won’t be able to use such a ladder, or move it, until after I’ve recovered from the surgery, so what’s the point of getting one now? I will make a note to get one once I am all recovered–and leaving it outside will make it easier to access for cleaning the windows, which I have also slacked off on doing lately (I don’t think I’ve done the windows at all since last year, which is disgraceful).

I also feel more focused this morning than I have in a very long time, too, which is terrific. I am going to ride this wave as long as it lasts today, and hopefully, it’s not just a one-day thing. But having had a lot of experience with my brain’s faulty wiring, I am also very well aware that this could easily just be a one-day bounce-back and tomorrow I will be down in the pit of despair again. Ah, the delightful rollercoaster of faulty brain wiring.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Be warned, there’s more blatant self-promotion coming your way relatively soon.