Tag: ophthalmologist

No More Words

Monday morning and I have an ophthalmologist appointment before I head into work. I slept super-great again last night, but didn’t really want to get up this morning. The appointment is pretty far out for me in Kenner (near Clearview), and I have no idea what time I will get to work. This is to check me for Stargardt disease, which my sister has and is genetic. I also have errands to run after work tonight–post office, make some groceries–before I come home to an apartment and all my chores. I was very tired yesterday–drained from the trip and all the driving over three days or so–and was able to only get some filing and organizing done, as well as ordered groceries for delivery and put them all away. The sink has dishes in it, there are dishes in the dishwasher that need to be put away, and the floors are always the worst. If I can stand it, I can do a bit every night before really focusing on it Friday, which is a holiday I don’t feel much like celebrating or acknowledging this year, given the dismantling of everything since January. I also have to get the bills figured out–I am terribly confused about these medical bills I am getting–and have a shit load of writing to do.

We started watching Olympo, a Spanish series about an athletic training school, and it’s quite fun. Not as fun as Elité, but we’re also only three episodes in. The big mystery of season one seems to be the use of performing enhancing drugs, with a swimmer collapsing and another swimmer determined to find out what’s going on. There’s also queer content; both gay and sapphic, which is very fun. Naturally, the cast is all gorgeous young Spaniards, which makes it very pleasant to watch. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I need to finish reading my current three reads (Summerhouse, Sing Me a Death Song, The Crying Child) before moving on to my next three. I also need to get back writing again; it seems like months since I’ve worked on anything, which is silly–I worked on writing last week, but the trip makes everything seem like it all happened an eternity ago, which is one of those weird time things I’m becoming more and more aware of the longer I live. I also need to clean out my email inbox, pay some bills, and pull my life back together–I’ve not been on top of things since I got sick after Saints and Sinners, really. Definitely need to. make a to-do list and a grocery list before heading out this morning, and maybe do some things around here before leaving for the appointment.

I did go down a research rabbit hole on Youtube again yesterday, though–more 1970s research, and I was also remembering the Bicentennial and how it really started overpowering the zeitgeist after President Nixon resigned and was pardoned. Next year is the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence; I am a little surprised that it’s not as big of a deal, or even a deal at all, so far. But we were a different country in 1976 than we are now, aren’t we? I was still in high school, we’d just moved to Kansas, and the Olympics were coming up, too–Montreal and Nadia Comaneci–so that was a busy summer for me, and one of major changes for one Gregalicious. (If you think it wasn’t a major change to go from a suburban Chicago high school to a rural one in Kansas, think again.) I also have Alabama stories bouncing through my head since I drove home on Saturday.

But now I have to get back to the spice mines and make that to-do list before cleaning up for the appointment and a short day in the office. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow as the month changes and the summer ratchets everything up even hotter than it was in June.

It’s going to be a looooong summer….

For All Tomorrow’s Lies

Alabama.

I love Alabama, despite the way the state continually disappoints me. It’s such a beautiful place, with its kudzu and towering pines and broad rivers and that startlingly gorgeous red dirt. (Red dirt is often used to symbolize poverty and ignorance and bigotry…but it’s also gorgeous. I’d much rather have red dirt on my car or my shoes than regular black dirt any time.) Driving through the state I am always amazed at the strange range of country homes, everything from crumbling abandoned wrecks to expensive looking McMansions to trailers of all kinds and all conditions, the creeks and mimosa trees and hollers, sometimes filled with out of control kudzu (kudzu has fascinated me since I was a child) and sometimes just bushes and flowers and wild blackberry bushes growing out of control. It always inspires me when I go back to Alabama, reconnecting with my roots and where I am actually from, or, as we say in New Orleans, where my people are from. I also find myself spending a lot of time visiting graveyards where relatives are buried, while my father once again explains who many of them are (I love visiting the graves of my mother’s paternal grandparents; there’s a picture of them posing with four of their children and they are one of the most gorgeous couples I’ve ever seen; their daughters look just like my mother–and by extension, kind of like me–and seeing that picture always pleases me so) and stories about them, and I know he enjoys remembering the family history while passing it along to me. I enjoy the stories of the county, too; as we drive around the backroads and past places from his and my youth (“we took this road home from Auburn when you were just three months old, remember it?”–Dad humor, sure, but I love every bit of it) and I marvel at it all, hoping that it’s all being imprinted on my faded and dying memory. I really do want to write more about Alabama (which is what I say every time I get back from there, isn’t it?), and yeah, I do need to get back to writing, don’t I?

And some of that county and family history? Let’s just say the county is a lot more like Peyton Place than anyone from there would care to admit.

Dad also brought me a case of Grape Crush in bottles, which was so sweet and thoughtful (you can only get cans here, so Dad always brings me some from Kentucky and yes, I am very spoiled and always have been). We drove down to visit my aunt and uncle (another seven hours total in the car on Friday), so am very worn out this morning, now that I am back home; the drive back yesterday was nice but was very tired by the time I got home. I did listen to John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors in the car (more on that later), but spent the evening watching My Mother Jayne, which was very well done (I always have been interested in Jayne Mansfield) and we really enjoyed. After that, I got started unpacking and putting things away and yes, I really do regret not thoroughly cleaning the apartment before I left on Wednesday. So instead of chilling out and relaxing today, I’ll be cleaning and making groceries (ordering them, at any rate), and hopefully reading and writing some.

It occurred to me last night that I didn’t get to all the queer books I wanted to read for Pride Month, and it also occurred to me that just because it’ll no longer be Pride Month doesn’t mean that I can’t read queer books; that’s the trap of having these celebratory months–I do not only read Black authors in February, after all, so why do I only focus on queer work in June?1 But I am glad I caught that I’d not finished Hall of Mirrors–and I know how it happened. I was reading it and about to go on a trip, and I always keep the books I am reading and the ones that are on-deck on the end table near my chair. I’d gotten down several potential books to take for the trip, and after I packed the books I decided to take I put the others back, and I must have reshelved Hall of Mirrors then; I was convinced I’d read it until before this trip, when I couldn’t remember how it ended and Audible suggested it–and when I got the book down from the shelves again there was a bookmark in it marking my place. Shamefully I downloaded it to my Audible, and decided to listen to it on this trip. There were three chapters left when I pulled up to the house; I finished it after watching My Mother Jayne…and then I fell asleep in my chair.

What a glorious night’s sleep I enjoyed last night, too! And it’s always nice to be home with Paul and Sparky. I didn’t make myself sick on the trip, either–remembering to have protein drinks and to take my pills and rehydrate properly. It was hot as fuck up there, too.

But I am going to bring this to a close, so I can get things done and groceries ordered and prepare for the week. I have an ophthalmologist appointment first thing tomorrow morning that requires me to drive out to (shudder) Kenner before I go into the office…and of course, Friday is the 4th of July so I have a three day weekend this week, too. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Enjoy your Sunday, Constant Reader, as I intend to enjoy mine, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Staircase in the step pyramid of Pharaoh Djoser at Saqqarah
  1. I don’t, but it seems like I put a lot more pressure on myself to do during Pride. ↩︎