Tag: Life

I Can’t Wait

Work-at-home Friday, and all through the Lost Apartment only Sparky and I are stirring. He’s scarfing down his breakfast as I type, while sipping my coffee. The extreme cold weather forecast has now been extended through Sunday at noon. Heavy sigh. It could at least snow! Somehow, the magic of snow in New Orleans last year made me forget about how cold it was…I still can’t get over how beautiful the city looked buried in snow. I slept really well last night, and feel pretty good this morning. I hope to get a lot done this weekend, but–no big deal if I don’t. I have my biweekly team meeting at ten this morning, and some admin work to get done before I call it a day. I was thinking I might take a break and do some errands, but I may let that slide until tomorrow; I do have to go uptown at some point this weekend, but maybe not today. I’ll see how I feel. I do want to get finished with reading my books this weekend, and I do want to spend some time organizing my writing and figuring out what to do with these short stories and calls for submissions. I also want to prune the books and make progress on my to-do list.

I bought a notebook with Things I need to get done but probably won’t on the cover, and I am using it as a running to-do list. Yes, this is kind of inspired by Donna Andrews1‘ marvelous Meg Langslow characters “notebook-that-tells-me-when-to-breathe,” and I kind of like it. You cross things off but keeping adding to it. I always numbered those lists when I made them, and am still doing that, but need to break the habit because it’ll eventually be in the hundreds, won’t it? How daunting would that be? “I just crossed number 435 off my to-do list!” I mean, yikes.

It’s hard to believe that a week from today the parades start and madness descends upon the city, but it’s a joyous kind of madness. I hate the logistics of life during the season–finding a place to park, having to be strategic about making groceries, having to leave work early, the noise down at the corner when I go to bed early…but I have Lundi Gras off, so that morning I can make a grocery run and get back before the streets close again. I also don’t have the stamina for standing outside for hours yet, so I will probably got a bit worn down again. At least this year I am not going into it full of depredation before finally giving into it–you can’t beat it, after all, so you might as well not resist and just dive-in head first.

And the bead trees of St. Charles will be blooming again soon.

Yesterday was a busy day at the clinic–almost everyone showed up, so I saw quite a few patients–but despite that I was able to stay caught-up on my “at the office” admin work. I came straight home from work, came inside the house and unloaded, fed Sparky, and started working on the laundry and some other chores. By the time Paul got home, I had done quite a bit around here, including organizing files. I do have more chores to get done today–the never-ending cycle of laundry is quite remarkable–but I need to reattach the dryer hose to the vent, which came loose this past week. I can still run the dryer but the heat stays in the room, and…there’s stuff on the pantry shelves that moist heat can wreck, so I need to pull the dryer out and reattach the hose. I just need to take everything off that bottom shelf and remove it temporarily so I can get back there–which is why I’ve not already done it. It’ll also help me with my reorganize the pantry shelves project. Paul got home late, and we watched this week’s The Beauty, which is insane but highly watchable (more on that later) and we also watched some of the Australian Open. The Olympics open that first parade weekend, too. #madness

And on that note, I think I am going to get cleaned up and started on my day. Thanks as always for stopping by, Constant Reader, and I hope you’re safe, snug and warm during this Arctic blast cold spell. I’ll be back in the morning, so see you then!

The bead trees will start blooming one week from today!

Sister Honey

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, and my last free weekend before parades. It’s so weird to think that parades are starting next weekend. Holy shit, right? But a week from tomorrow is the first night of parades, with Alla and Cleopatra, with six on Saturday and three on Sunday before all the true madness really begins the following week. I hope the weather is nice for the parades this year, since this is the first time in years I’m actually feeling like I can enjoy them this season. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand at the corner, but I always seem to forget being old and tired when I am out there and the throws are a-flyin’. I also forget about it being damp and cold, too. Paul and I stood out in the rain one night for Orpheus and had the best time. I slept really well and actually woke up around five, to nap on and off until Sparky became determined to get me up for a feeding. Since I did go to the bathroom when I woke up at five, I saw that he was curled up at my feet in the bed–and when I came back, he cuddled up to my calves. Such a sweet, adorable baby…until he started nipping my fingers so I would get up to feed him.

After I ran my errands in the bitter cold on my way home from work, I came home and just collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky curled up in my lap (after being fed, of course) while I caught up on the day’s horrors–er, news–before turning to the final episode of the finale for Real Housewives of Salt Lake City’s reunion. I’m not really sure there’s any point to these reunions/rehashings of the season–it just gives them all a chance to yell at each other all over again, with a noncommittal resolution that’s seems required by that smug expired twinkie Andy Cohen (at some point I will do a newsletter about the Housewives shows).

The amount of virality that continues with Heated Rivalry and its stars continues to astound and amaze me. It does also please me; I’ve become rather entranced with them myself and feel almost paternally protective of them. I watch reels and videos about them and their journey to international stardom. They all have such adorable personalities, and are all so humble about all this sudden success and fame…and it’s just kind of fun to see, you know?1 And who doesn’t love a rags to riches story? It also amazes me how different Connor Storrie is from the character he played–and I don’t just mean the acting. He looks different. Similar, but different. As Ilya, he doesn’t really use his very expressive face the way he does as himself; so much so that he doesn’t seem like the same person. I feel like physical actors don’t get as much credit as they deserve; I always think of that scene in Superman where Christopher Reeve changes from Clark Kent into Superman but only in posture and physically, and it was extraordinary; he never got the credit he deserved for his acting talent.

Yesterday was an odd one, energy-wise. I wasn’t tired, and I ran my errands on the way home, coming straight home tonight with no stops, might have things delivered if I need anything over the weekend. We had a lot of no-shows yesterday–I think I wound up only seeing two or three people total–so I found myself catching up on a lot of other work that doesn’t involve seeing clients. We’re scheduled heavier than yesterday and I am alone in the clinic yet again…and I have some other things I need to get done today around clients. I feel pretty good this morning, though, and like I’ll be able to get everything under control today. Tonight when I get home I have some chores to do once His Majesty has been fed and gotten enough attention, and then I think I’ll probably catch up on the news before watching this week’s The Beauty. We’re also a bit behind on The Night Manager, too. And of course the Australian Open is on, and the Olympics are also coming up…during parade season!

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

  1. I’m still bitter about Boots being canceled. ↩︎

Nothing Ever Changes

Tuesday of our latest arctic blast, but all is comfy and warm inside the Lost Apartment, which is lovely. The dry heat used to bother me–it still bugs Paul–but I’ve adjusted to it and it’s not the worst thing in the world. I mean, we could have to be out protesting in the streets in below zero temperatures (Minnesotans are making me very proud to be American, because fuck this fascist bullshit, now and forever.) I even saw an anthology call for short stories yesterday with the theme American Gestapo and you can bet your ass I am going to write something for that call. I have more than a few things to say about the collapse of American democracy, and a lot of scorn for those who cheer the decline and fall. I, for one, never expected the Reich-wing flip-flop on carrying a gun and gun ownership1, but these are indeed the strangest of times. And now it looks like the siege of Minneapolis might finally be ending; Bovino the Temu SS officer has been fired, and hopefully, that disgusting pile of filth known as Kristi Noem will be thrown under the bus along with him. Was this third government execution of an American citizen a turning point? Maybe, at long last. (So far, they’ve killed a black man–most people don’t know that part; outrage grew over the white woman; and exploded over the white man…as it ever was and is and will be.)

I mean, when you’ve lost the NRA and Greg motherfucking Abbott, it’s really is time for some serious self-reflection, isn’t it?

It’s cold again this morning, but it’s going to warm up a little before the next arctic blast (worse than the first) arrives later this week. We’re talking single digit weather in New Orleans, of all places. It’s going to be a weird weekend. I am going to try to get everything errand-wise finished by Friday, so I can stay indoors from Friday evening to Monday morning. Tis very cold here in my bay windows this morning, but it was pleasant at work yesterday (as opposed to our last cold spell, when the office was freezing). I slept so well last night–that pile of blankets was incredibly warm and comfortable and cozy last night, and I really hated to get out from under them this morning. When I got home from my errands last night (I had also ordered some groceries for delivery, too), I changed into my home-clothes (sweatpants and a hoodie and slippers), and sat down in my chair to read for a bit and watch the news before doing some chores, but Sparky had other ideas. He plopped into my lap and went to sleep…and then I was so comfortable, between him and the blanket, that I really never got back up again, other than for something to drink or snacks. It was entirely too comfortable, really.

Yesterday wasn’t bad at work, either. I wasn’t in the clinic after all, so I spent the day doing Admin stuff and getting caught up on everything–I’m never really very behind on anything anymore, but letting things slide always gets me in trouble. We’re slow this week, too, so I should be able to be all caught up on office work by Thursday when I leave. Huzzah!

I also finished my first promotional newsletter for Hurricane Season Hustle, which you can read right here! I need to do at least another one–the book officially drops on February 10–and I am getting really behind on the newsletters, aren’t I? The goal was once a week, and I’ve strayed very far from that initial ideal/goal over the last couple of years. I have so many started….and I really need to get more done, especially since (as with everything) I keep getting more ideas for them all the time! Heavy heaving sigh. It’s very hard to get things done, though, when I’m cold–but I need to stop giving in to the easy laziness and power through, don’t I?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and stay safe and warm–especially those in Minneapolis and Maine. I’ll be back tomorrow!

  1. Funny how they change their tune on everything, isn’t it? Suddenly the people who need a fucking AK-47 to go get coffee at Starbucks claim if you carry a gun in public the cops or a federal agent can shoot you? But, no, we’re the brainwashed ones… ↩︎

Rock a Little

Monday morning and it’s back to the spice mines with me this morning. There are worse things I could do, one supposes. The cold has arrived; it’s only 29 outside and I can absolutely tell as I swill coffee and shiver a bit here at my home workspace. Sparky has been glued to me since I got up–although why he isn’t cuddled up with Paul in the bed is indeed a mystery to me; that’s where I’d be if the alarm hadn’t gone off and I could have slept another few hours, comfy and cozy and warm under my pile of blankets. But I am awake, it’s not terribly cold inside (it could be worse) and we didn’t lose power, which is a big plus. That was my primary concern–the loss of power and no heat, like that year we didn’t have heat and it froze on Mardi Gras day. Shiver. That was beyond miserable, and not an experience I would like to relive at any point in my life.

This is my first full week of work this year so far–I think; there may have been one earlier that I’ve forgotten about, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve had to go into the office four days in a row. I don’t think I have to work in the clinic this morning, but have been wrong before. Either way, it’ll be fine. I do hope Dad and the rest of my family in Kentucky have power and are safe and warm and staying inside. They are–I just checked the power outage map up there. Whew. It’s really not feeling too terribly cold this morning; despite the low temperature, but my hips, ankles and Achilles tendons are aching this morning. The most fun thing about being old when it gets cold is these aches I never used to have.

I found myself in a bit of malaise yesterday; more of an emotional exhaustion than anything else. The state of the country and the world just got to be a bit overwhelming for me this weekend–the existential horror of everything was a bit too much and it kind of got to me. What can I say? How are you coping with the daily burning of the Constitution by the fascist administration? I couldn’t focus to write–I did take some notes, but when thinking about anything that I am currently writing, it just seemed kind of pointless and frivolous. I know we need art and literature to help people get through these horrifying times, and feeling and expressing and creating joy in dark times can be a beacon of hope for people trying to cope…but sometimes, I just need to accept that it’s overwhelming and sometimes it causes paralysis. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday other than do some dishes and just mindlessly watch political commentary or old sports highlights or history videos while paging through a non-fiction history (The Fall of the Dynasties, to be exact). I did watch the I Want My MTV documentary–the cultural impact of MTV in the 1980s cannot ever be overestimated–which was kind of fun and had me remembering the early days of it and how we were all addicted to it back then.

One of the few bright spots of this year so far has been the enormous reception to Heated Rivalry, and how its two young stars–Connor Storie and Hudson Williams–have become global superstars in a matter of weeks. I was happy to see they got to carry the Olympic torch in Italy, which was incredibly cool for them. I wish them nothing but the best, and I have to say that I am absolutely delighted for them both, for the show, and the representation. Can we also drop the “but it was written by a woman!” nonsense? Regardless of the politics of who writes who and what is or isn’t cultural appropriation and so forth–which is far too nuanced to be discussed in 120 characters or whatever the fuck the limit is on those Twitter-style social media apps–can’t we just enjoy the fact that a show about two men falling in love is the hottest thing on the planet right now? Can we stop being concerned about straight people watching and their opinions, and whether or not they’re pandering for views or clicks?

I would like to take a moment to remind everyone that the biggest selling gay novel of the modern post-Stonewall era was The Front Runner by Patricia Nell Warren? I knew Patricia very well, and I can assure you that she was definitely not a man.

Heavy sigh.

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me for the day. Wish me luck on the day–who knows what it will bring in its wake. I’ll be back tomorrow, though. No worries!

Imperial Hotel

Sunday morning! It’s seventy degrees outside this morning, with the cold front not quite here yet; it’s going to start raining soon (per the forecast) which is part of the front’s arrival, along with shockingly low temperatures later on today. It looks very gray outside, the ground is wet, and I am incredibly happy I don’t have to leave the apartment today other than to take the recycling out, which I should do right now before the rain gets here. Hang on, I’ll be right back.

Okay, I’m back. My legs are strangely tired and a bit sore this morning–the Achilles tendons in particular again–so I think when I finish this I might do some stretching, which I should start doing regularly again. I never really had to when I was younger–being naturally freakishly flexible meant I didn’t need to, but it was bad to never develop a regular stretching routine. I wonder, if now that my anxiety is under control, maybe the gym won’t be such an anxious experience for me. I’d conquered gym fear back in 1995, but after so long away from it I always had that anxiety whenever I would go back and try to get done as quickly as possible. I am going to return after Carnival and hopefully stick to it; I definitely need more stamina, and I’d like to shave off some extra weight (but without the assistance of the damned ulcerative colitis, of course). I know I’ll feel better the stronger and healthier I get, too.

Yesterday was definitely a day of odd energy. I got up a little later than I should have, and wasn’t as motivated as I had hoped. I would be. I think it was partly the oncoming storm on the horizon that was unsettling? I did run some errands (seven boxes of books to the library sale) and had some things delivered. I also braved the grocery store the day before a horrible winter storm descends upon us here in southeastern Louisiana. It was pretty hectic and crowded, and the check out lines were lengthy. But they were checking people out with a high degree of efficiency (for once), so it didn’t take nearly as long as I had feared it might. It was a very gray day, too–it was just gray and windy and chilly. I got home and unloaded the car and put everything away and relaxed for a bit. Sparky curled up in my lap and I spent some time catching up on the latest horrors from the current administration of fascists and liars and murderers. I also spent some time rereading one of my favorite books of history–Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror. We also watched the first three episodes of Ryan Murphy’s latest pretty production of a disjointed narrative, The Beauty.

In all honesty, I am not sure what to think. of The Beauty. It could easily have just been another season of American Horror Story rather than a stand-alone series. I also could do without child sexual abuse supporter and a friend of Diddy who regularly attended the “freak-offs” on my television screen. I’ll watch, but we’re not giving Ashton Kutcher a redemption arc, thank you very much. I’ve also not seen his ex-wife’s The Substance, but there seem to be an awful lot of similarities between the two. There’s a lot of things that could be said about our American obsession with youth and beauty, but I seriously doubt we’re going to get it from a Ryan Murphy show. It’s also my thought that the show will go off the rails and stop making sense, the way so many of the Ryan Murphy seasons do, before long. One day I may be able to break my hate-watching need for Ryan Murphy’s deeply flawed productions, but we aren’t there yet. After we caught up on it, we switched to the Australian Open and watched that until it was time for bed. I also made dinner last night, so the kitchen is a bit messy this morning. I do think, though, that once I finish and post this I may go read for a bit before getting cleaned up and getting the house under control yet again.

And yes, we’ve had another murder of an American citizen–a male nurse, at that–in Minneapolis by the tax-payer funded Noem thugs. She, and the rest of them, all lied about it, of course; which she should be civilly liable for; I do think the victims’ families should be able to file wrongful death suits against Noem, Homeland Security, and this administration. So glad y’all couldn’t bring yourself to vote for the highly qualified Black woman because you didn’t believe she worked at McDonalds and had a stranger laugh you didn’t like. Fuck you all, now and forever. There can be no forgiveness without atonement and genuine remorse. I’ll probably carry that grudge to the grave. Have fun in church today, Pharisees.

It’s funny, because one thing I’ve been researching for a future book is the 1970s and its pop culture, which is fun and interesting–although the clothes and hairstyles can be safely left to the past and memory. But one of the biggest things I can remember in the 1970s was the Bicentennial; many now aren’t old enough to remember that. I’ll probably write an essay for the newsletter about the Bicentennial at some point. Remembering what a huge fuss was made for the Bicentennial makes it kind of surprising that no one seems to give a shit that the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence is this July 4th. Kind of ironic that it was written as a result of years of authoritarian British colonial rule and justice…while on a major anniversary of the signing we have elected our own authoritarians and tyrant to abuse our freedoms and liberties. The way they can bald-faced lie despite the overwhelming video evidence that proves they lie about everything and anything.

The lengths they will go to in order to distract from the Epstein files is pretty telling, isn’t it? It’s worse for them for the epstein files to come out than shooting American citizens dead in the streets.

That’s a pretty big fucking tell, isn’t it?

Well, the rain has arrived and it’s very dark now, so I am going to repair to my easy chair and my coffee and read some more Ken Holt and Eli Cranor. Stay safe and warm wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Thanks for stopping by!

enchanted

And here we are on another work-at-home Friday, after an odd week. Monday was a holiday, and of course I took Wednesday off, so this has been an odd week. I kept thinking yesterday was Monday, for one thing, which was weird–I felt rested and motivated for most of the day, which was a good thing. I was also very efficient, getting everything done that needed to be done, and of course, I have work at home duties to get done. I slept well again and got up earlier than usual, so I feel good this morning, too. Might I actually get some things done this weekend? Remains to be seen. There’s a cold front coming in over the weekend, with temperatures dipping down into the freezing range on Sunday. We’re not supposed to get snow and ice, but….one never can be certain, can one? I did get some chores done last night, too, so I am already ahead on the weekend. All the dishes are clean, so all I need to work on is pruning the books some more and the floors. Huzzah! I should have time to get some writing done as well as some other cleaning and organizing, and reading, too. Well, we’ll see, at any rate; I reserve the right to be lazy this weekend.

I get all sorts of emails trying to sell me ebooks on sale for either $1.99 or $2.99, and usually I’ll get things that I’ve already read, or something I meant to read all along yet never obtained a copy. Yesterday, the ebook I impulsively bought was Thus Was Adonis Murdered by Sarah Caudwell.1 I have a mass market paperback copy I bought any number of years ago, and I cannot remember who recommended it to me, or why they did; but I now have it in physical and ethereal form, so maybe I’ll get around to reading it this year. Maybe I’ll get around to reading something, anything, this year.

I was delighted to see Sinners get so many Oscar nominations, setting a new record for most with 16. I personally loved the movie, thought it was incredibly well made, written, and acted, and am really happy the Academy seems to be getting past its issues with horror cinema (Frankenstein also got a lot of nominations, and I still want to see it). Maybe this weekend I can carve out some time for a rewatch of Sinners, as well as Frankenstein and my rewatch of The Mummy.2 I always have so much to do, and being overwhelmed by it and getting none of it done is a long-standing issue in my life. I think I am nervous about working on Chlorine, and that is effectively blocking me from getting other things done along the way, too. Obviously, the answer to that dilemma is idiot, so start working on it–it can always be fixed. I don’t know why I can’t get past the fear of writing stuff I may not be able to use, but here we are, you know?

I still haven’t watched the final season of Stranger Things, and honestly, can’t drum up much interest in my mind to even consider watching. I don’t remember much, if anything, of the previous season…which is probably part of the problem. We also lost interest in Welcome to Derry, too. I think watching Derry and not getting into it has something to do with my lack of interest in finishing Stranger Things. The show started out as an homage to Stephen King and the 1980s, which made it a lot of fun for me those first few seasons…but if anything, It was kind of the blueprint for Stranger Things, and as a fan of It, there was a lot of issues in my mind with continuing with Derry–and having started Derry, I think the similarities is the mind block for me.

I got my twenty-one year pin this week at work, which was yet another damn you’re old moment for me. I’ve worked there now for nearly a third of my life (my previous record for a job was five years) and a lot has changed since I went to work part-time at the CAN office of the NO/AIDS Task Force twenty-one years ago–not just for me and the world, but in HIV testing, treatment, and care. Twenty-one years ago we hadn’t reached the ability to achieve undetectable viral loads (making you non-infectious) and PrEP (to prohibit new infections).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again tomorrow morning. Till then, arrivederci!

Screenshot
  1. And yes, it bothers me that I cannot remember why it was recommended to me. I guess it doesn’t matter. ↩︎
  2. I love the Brendan Fraser/Rachel Weisz movies so much–but I can’t remember which movie is which! It will be part of my newsletter’s Egypt series. ↩︎

Nightbird

And it’s back to the office on this odd week of day off, day on alternating since Monday. It’s going to be warm all day–it’s sixty outside right now–before the cold weather returns with a vengeance this weekend. I slept well last night, and as usual, didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Yesterday was different; going to a memorial service in the middle of the day was certainly something new and unusual and out of the ordinary. I felt emotionally drained after we got back home–it was lovely seeing people I’ve not seen in years, of course–but it also required me to interact socially, which wore me down and out. I watched the second episode of the Salt Lake City reunion, and we got an episode of The Night Manager out of the way, too, before calling it an evening and going to bed early, which is on the agenda for this evening, too. I can come straight home after work–we got the mail yesterday, so I shouldn’t have to leave the apartment all weekend–and hopefully get some chores out of the way, if I’m not terribly tired when I get home. I also have a lot of things to do at work today…so yeah, I might be tired tonight. And so what if I am?

It’s kind of nice not having anxiety anymore.

But I am not achy or tired physically this morning, so I think I am now past the bodily shake-up and shock from the car accident Monday afternoon. That seems like a million years ago now, with the way that time passes so quickly these days. It’s February and Carnival before we know it, and then the Festivals loom on the horizon. This is the best I’ve felt all week in the morning, so I suspect there was some lingering exhaustion from something or another–which is nice; I always worry I’m about to have another UC attack because I sure as hell don’t want to go through another bout of that–although I do wonder how it would be treated now that I am on the medication. Who knows? I am not a doctor nor do I play one on television.

It was a year ago that New Orleans was buried in snow and the entire city shut down for two days. It was delightful, and made me rethink my long-time hatred of snow. It helped that I didn’t have to go outside as work closed for the duration; instead, me and Sparky were nice and toasty warm inside the Lost Apartment, watching television and loving how the city was reacting to this weather weirdness. I kind of wish we’d get snow again, but even with this enormous and dangerous winter storm coming, it’s still a very long shot.

I feel very alert and rested, now that the coffee has started kicking into gear and I’ve had some coffee cake. I got a Hubig’s cream cheese King cake the other day when I made groceries, and it is quite delicious–though there’s not nearly as much cream cheese as they put in the Rouse’s brand ones, which is what I usually get. Yes, I know there are some amazing king cakes to be had in New Orleans, but the store brand has always worked for us and we’ve never been king cake snobs. I do like the more bougie ones, but I only have those when someone brings one in to work, or we go to a party somewhere during the season. My supervisor will occasionally bring some really good ones from Cannata’s Bakery out in Houma, where she lives; they are quite delicious.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday (it feels like Monday, and I feel like I usually do on Mondays), Constant Reader, and I will be back home tomorrow for work-at-home Friday.

Gate and Garden

Wednesday morning that doesn’t feel like a Wednesday, following close behind a Tuesday that didn’t feel like a Tuesday. Sigh. I have today off to attend a memorial service for a close friend, and so tomorrow is also going to feel a bit off, too–another day in the office before work-at-home Friday and the weekend. Yesterday was weird, you know? I was a bit stiff and sore from Monday’s fender-bender, and my energy just felt off all day. It was very weird, honestly, and probably a hangover from the adrenaline spike on Monday afternoon. That accident could have been so much worse than it was, too. Thank goodness for staying calm in the moment, right? It was a bit cold yesterday morning, too, but it felt okay when I left for the office. I had an errand to run on the way home, and I was back in my chair with a purring kitty before it got terribly dark, which was a very nice outcome. I was very tired when I got home, too, so didn’t really do much of anything last night…and I slept for almost twelve hours! I’m not sure what that was about, but I feel rested and good this morning, the coffee is going down easily, and Sparky is perched on my desk watching the windows.

There was an arson attack in the Bywater the other night–some friends’ home burned, along with eight parked cars and I think maybe one more house? Arson is terrifying in a city with a long history of burning–I don’t even know how many great New Orleans fires there have been, but I do know big swathes of the Quarter burned down several times in the eighteenth century. I also know that under the right conditions the entire city could easily go up in flames again. When we lived on Camp Street in the mid-to-late nineties, there was an arsonist setting fires in the lower Garden District; theoretically, he burned down a house on Coliseum Street as well as the old Coliseum Theater–which I am still not convinced wasn’t an insurance fire–how convenient for the property owner not to have to deal with a historic building and the insane process to tear it down. There’s a big building full of condos there now…and I know at one point I had wanted to write a Chanse book about an arsonist here, but somehow never got around to it…and of course, this recent arson has me thinking about a New Orleans arsonist again; I also wrote two Scotty books about fires–Bourbon Street Blues has a house fire, and Jackson Square Jazz came out of the Cabildo fire…and of course, I also wrote about the fire at the Upstairs Lounge in a Chanse, too. So I have written about fires in New Orleans…funny how you forget things you actually wrote yourself, isn’t it?

I think when I get home from the service (and the errands we are going to run afterwards) I am going to get some chores done around here so I don’t have to do them this weekend. I won’t be as tired as I usually am on Thursday, either, so I should be able to get things done tomorrow night after work, too. I think I am in the clinic alone again, but that’s fine. It’ll be a busy day for me, too–lots of things will need to get caught up for the week, now that I am missing a full day–but it’ll be fine. I can also get some reading done, too–it really is wild how hard it is for me to sit down with a book these days, you know? I was remembering yesterday about how much I used to read–and when I was growing up books were also a lot longer. I spent the summer before my junior year reading Michener–I read Hawaii, Centennial, Tales of the South Pacific, and Chesapeake that summer; I really wish he would have done Louisiana–and the summer before my senior year reading Herman Wouk (Marjorie Morningstar, Youngblood Hawke, The Winds of War, and War and Remembrance) while also reading thick volumes by Taylor Caldwell, Irving Wallace, and many others.

And now it takes me two weeks to reread The Postman Always Rings Twice. How things change.

And on that note I am going to head into the spice mines as the world and country burn to the ground around me. Have a lovely midweek Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning before work! See you then!

Stand Back

Tuesday and back to the office with me this morning. I have tomorrow off to attend a memorial service for a friend, and then one more day back in the office before work-at-home Friday again. It feels weird to be up early this morning again, and my body is not really sure how to take it. I slept well–my blanket nest was very comfortable all night–and I didn’t want to get out from underneath it. But my coffee is tasting good, I am waking up, and my body doesn’t feel tired. My Achilles tendons are still a bit sore and tight, but that is nothing new and shouldn’t hold me back for the day. I do have an errand to run after work, but that’s not a big deal and it’s on the way home. I don’t know if we’re busy today in the clinic or not, but there’s naught to worry about until I am there and working.

Yesterday wound up not being terribly productive over all, and I am a bit battered this morning. You know how I always say I want to not be such a creature of habit and get out of the ruts I find myself in all the time? I’ve always found comfort in routine, in doing things the same way over again as a coping mechanism for anxiety and stress, so yesterday I decided to do things differently. Rather than making groceries in the morning I waited until the afternoon; I drove Paul to his office; and I made groceries and came home a different way–and had an accident. I wasn’t at fault or anything, but I was taking Baronne through the CBD and rather than turning on Howard to head up to St. Charles, I decided to go up to MLK and head down to Prytania. After I passed under the highway, I noted there was a city construction truck of some sort in the left lane just past Clio, but as I approached the intersection there I saw a car coming down Clio and into the intersection–turning right–who didn’t see me. In that split second I weighed all options quickly and calmly–okay I am probably going to be hit by that car how can I minimize the impact? I couldn’t turn into the left lane because of the parked truck; if I slammed on the brakes I would broadside him right where he was sitting, turning right onto Clio wasn’t an option (also a one-way) so the only option left was to floor it and try to get by without hitting him. I almost made it, too. He tagged me a glancing blow on the back end of the passenger side, but because I had sped up it wasn’t that bad. Had I braked we would have both had to go to the hospital, and I of course immediately pulled over. The poor guy didn’t know that my car was already dented and dinged from being parked! So I didn’t understand why he was so worried about me and my car because he thought he’d done all that damage to my car. I took a look, found the little bit that was new–it was hardly even noticeable–but his radiator was damaged and all the fluid was draining out. It wasn’t until he asked about insurance–and I’d made sure he was okay–that I realized what he was thinking. “Dude, you didn’t do this”–wide sweeping gesture at the side of my car–“it was already like this, and I’m not going to file a claim and make you pay to fix this! I am not that person!” So, we shook hands, we both apologized, and called it a day. However, my adrenaline had spiked and I also was a bit in shock, so by the time I pulled up in front of the house the shock had cleared and so had the adrenaline, and I was exhausted. I collapsed into my chair with Sparky and tried to read, but couldn’t keep my mind clear or focused, so just started watching sports highlights and whatever videos caught my fancy on Youtube with my purring kitty in my lap. I do love how cats can sense something is wrong or off and try to make you feel better. I am a bit sore this morning, but that is to be expected.

I hadn’t planned on watching any of the championship game last night, but I put it on while I was waiting for Paul to get home so I could make dinner and…it was a good game! I wasn’t vested in who won–a friend is a big Miami fan, so if pressed, I’d root for them, but if anyone had told me at the beginning of the season that Indiana would be in the championship game, I would have laughed; likewise had someone told me the title game would be Miami-Indiana. I wound up going to bed before it was over–Indiana had the ball, there were only a few minutes left in the game, and they were ahead 24-21–and woke up to see Indiana won 27-21. The miracle at Indiana! Other programs have turned around from sad and tragic, but not like this! Before, I would have said the big turnarounds were Tulane, Vanderbilt, and Kansas State–but none of them have gone undefeated and won the national title, either. Is Indiana the new college football dynasty? We shall see.

I also filled four boxes with books to take to the library sale this Saturday. You can actually tell this time, too, that I pruned the books!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday that feels like Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

If Anyone Falls

And the holiday has arrived. I slept well last night, and didn’t want to get out from under the covers, which were so incredibly comfortable this morning. I can tell that it’s cold outside my windows as I sit swilling my coffee and chowing down on my coffee cake. I wore tights under my sweat pants all day yesterday and that was very cozy yesterday, too. I should probably run an errand this morning, but I am also thinking it can wait maybe until tomorrow? I don’t know if the groceries are open today–grocery employees should get holidays, too, you know–but it will not hurt me in the least to give it the old college try. Yesterday was a very nice day. I wasn’t tired or achy at all–I usually am good by Sundays of my weekend–and I did manage to get some things done. I worked on the books and made progress, filling up two boxes of donations to take to the library sale this coming Saturday, and there’s at least enough pulled out to fill another box today, too. I did some picking up and cleaning yesterday, and also worked on organizing computer files. I watched some documentaries on French history, caught up a bit on the news (always dreadful) and read for a while, which was a lovely start to getting back into reading again–and I am going to carve out some time this morning for reading, too. Huzzah!

The other day on social media–I don’t recall if it was Bluesky or Threads–but Saeed Jones had discovered the wonders of Maldon brand sea salt and was sharing that information–before moving on to fancy gourmet style butter. I had already discovered the magic of Kerrygold butter (someone talked about regarding tariffs earlier last year, so I got some and was completely sold on this bougie butter), but there were some other brands mentioned that I’d not heard of, so I’d been trying to locate Maldon salt here locally (Rouse’s claimed to have it, but I didn’t find it in either of the two stores I frequent) and some of those bougie butter brands; I was planning on making baked potatoes last night, so I thought why not make them completely bougie? I didn’t find any of the butter brands, but got some more Kerrygold (including a stick of garlic and herb butter!). And yes, the Maldon salt is amazing. I am completely sold on the bougie salt! Now I am thinking of getting some of that pink sea salt they have at Costco…who knew there was fancier salt and butter all this time? Regular salt and butter are, of course, perfectly fine; but yeah, the bougie stuff is pretty damned good. Thanks, Saeed! And they say no good can come from social media! I laugh in their face HA HA HA HA HA!

I also decided to rewatch my favorite episode of Heated Rivalry yesterday–Episode 3, “Hunter,” which is the almost self-contained romance of Scott Hunter and Kip the smoothie barista. This was the episode when I became truly vested in the show, and committed to it emotionally. It was so well written and acted, and their chemistry together was incredible, sweet and intense, and I was in tears by the end of the episode, just as I was when I originally watched it. It’s such an excellent episode, and it definitely left me wanting more when I finished. It was even better on the rewatch, and I caught things I didn’t the first time. (I had seen that people were rewatching the show, and while I certainly can’t commit to the time required to watch the whole thing again, I thought “hey, I can watch this episode again!”) SPOILER: I was absolutely delighted they wound up together after all, with Scott publicly kicking open the closet door. I do hope we see more of Kip and Scott in future seasons! I’ve loved Francois Arnaud in everything I’ve seen him in (The Borgias….sigh. He was so good as Cesare), and this new young actor playing Kip is gorgeous, charismatic, and may even have the best body on the show, which is saying alot.

I also spent a lot of time scribbling free form in my journal yesterday, something I’ve not done in quite a long time. It was nice to let my mind wander and let my hand scribble. I’ll have to look at it again today to see what was running through my mind yesterday while I idly watched my French history documentaries (mostly about Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII, and the Thirty Years’ War–I also watched a good one about James I and the Duke of Buckingham). Once we’d had dinner, we finished Seven Dials, which seems to have a different ending, among other things, than what I remembered–but I could very easily be wrong. I’ve always loved the character of Lady Eileen Brent, and maybe that’s why I remember the novel so fondly, but I know for sure I loved The Secret of Chimneys and have reread it numerous times during my Christie era. We then started season two of The Night Manager, which is a lot of fun, and Tom Hiddleston is certainly not a problem for one’s eyesight.

As I mentioned, I did spend some time with The Secret of Hangman’s Inn and the new Eli Cranor, Mississippi Blue 42. The Ken Holt series is one of the highest bars in juvenile mystery series, and probably the hardest boiled of them all. I can’t wait to write about Ken Holt again! Mississippi Blue 42 is set in the wild world of college football, with a pair of FBI agents investigating criminality (paying players). Eli is a terrific writer, his debut Don’t Know Tough was set in the world of high-pressure high school football, and I am way behind on his canon…and spending some time with this book is reminding me of how much I love his work.

And on that note, I should probably get going with my day. I am going to try to be productive, but at the same time I am not going to kill myself getting things done, either. So, have a great day while I head into the spice mines.

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