Ugh. Paul’s currently under the knife, and I’ve been up since four (!!!). We had to be here at 5:45, but the good news is we will probably be home before noon. Obviously, I am tired—no one should ever have to get up at four in the morning, seriously—and I have no idea what the rest of my day is going to look like. I know I’ll have to go get his prescriptions once I get him home—which is fine, I can run some errands at the same time—and then hopefully be settled in for the weekend. I do have lots of laundry and picking up to get done, too.
It was supposed to rain all day yesterday, but after the morning it was all over. I don’t know why I bother checking the weather; New Orleans’ weather forecasts literally change completely if you wait a few hours, and I need to remember that the forecast between May and October is always hot, humid, chance of rain. Every day, all day, week in, week out. I look forward to the rain, though—which is probably not the way most people feel.
I brought All of Us Murderers with me to read this morning, and I realized—despite being sleepy and tired—that there’s nothing wrong with the book at all; it’s just not what I was expecting, which I will delve into more when I finish reading it and write about it, which is a relief; that’s an entirely different kettle of fish, and by reframing how I’m reading it and reacting to it through a more accurate lens will change my reaction to it. I think this happens a lot with readers—they go into something expecting something else and then don’t like the book because they’re disappointed, rather than reframing their expectations; that’s why I simply say “it wasn’t for me” when I don’t enjoy something. One should always respect the amount of work and dedication that went into the book, which is something people should be reminded of more regularly.
Yesterday was a good day, even if my evening was a little truncated by having to go to bed earlier than usual—or at least I tried. I know I wanted to go to bed around nine, but I think it was closer to ten when I climbed the steps and slid beneath the pile of blankets. I was a bit tired by the end of the day, but nothing remotely close to how I used to feel on Thursdays. Even now, I don’t feel physically tired, and one of the best benefits of the three day weekend last week was my Achilles tendons finally got enough rest to stop hurting, so I can actually walk normally again—and it also means I can walk more quickly, and the stairs are no longer a trial. Huzzah! I also have lost about seven pounds or so in the last two weeks—I limit myself to weighing every two weeks because i refuse to obsess about my weight ever again—which was also kind of nice. I’m not eating as much as I used to because I get full a lot faster than I ever did before. I think that’s another age thing? Hopefully, I can start taking walks and getting in to better condition. AT LAST!
Okay, the surgeon came in to let me know everything went well and he’s in the recovery room for about half an hour before being returned here to this patient room. Probably be here for another couple of hours or so—he has to wait for his leg to wake up and do some physical therapy before we can head home. Yay! I’m sure he’ll go to sleep once we do get home, Sparky will curl up on him, and all will be well. Huzzah!
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines—well, go back to reading—and will be back bright and early in the morning! Until then!
Thursday and the last day in the office for me. I’m off tomorrow because of Paul’s surgery (obviously), and we still don’t know what time we have to be at the surgery center. Thanks for all the well wishes, everyone. They are appreciated. It’s supposed to rain most of the day today–95% chance–although it was also supposed to rain all day yesterday and it really didn’t. Mississippi is being inundated, though, with flash flooding and all that good stuff. I think we’re slow in the clinic today, so I should be able to get my admin work done today.
Once we find out what time we have to be at the surgery center on Friday, I’ll be able to formulate any plans for the day andfor the weekend. Which is fine; I just don’t do well with ambiguity and have never been a “play it by ear” kind of person–the medications have not changed that at all, so that clearly wasn’t a stressor–but I do have my to-do list/notebook to consult. I do have to pay some bills that are due next week before pay day that I’ve been kind of slagging off on–it’s not like they’re overdue or anything, they are simply due next week and on the last Pay-the-Bills Day I just didn’t feel like keeping up with it. (Every time I pay a bill, I think, now watch the world incinerate tomorrow. It used to be a joke…in the before times.)
Remember that planned Entergy outage from last weekend that didn’t happen because of the rain? They sent me an email and a text yesterday to let me know it was rescheduled for that day–after I was already at work and couldn’t do anything about it. All I could think was everything in the fridge is going to be wasted and replaced. I groaned at the thought of the money wasted and the money to spend to replace everything, but before I could spiral about it I thought about the people in the same situation who can’t afford to replace everything, and I was infuriated on their behalf. It went off around four, I got home after five to no power, but it was back on around six. Everything is fine, nothing spoiled…but I can’t get stop thinking about the people who can’t afford to replace groceries spoiled. Had this happened back in our poorer days, that would have been us. I know Entergy has to do stuff like this–they were replacing a circuit breaker that needed it–but more than same day notice would be appreciated–so people could stock in ice or something to keep things from spoiling. I mean, what about people on SNAP? The poor tax in this country is too high.
Since there was no power when I got home there was aught for me to do but sit in my easy chair with Sparky and start reading my next reads, All of Us Murderers and A Queer Kind of Death, and I must say, they are absolutely different queer stories and voices. A Queer Kind of Death is arch and campy and witty and loads of fun; it reminds me of P. G. Wodehouse and All About Eve, that wild and wonderful sophisticated kind of wit that is reminiscent of The Thin Man films, too. I think I may be being too. hard on Murderers because it is early in the book and I think I was reading critically rather than for pleasure. I’m not saying it’s bad; I’m saying it isn’t what I expected it to be (which is on me, not the author), and I am having to rethink it as I go because of that. Again, on me, not the author or the book. I’m going to take it to work to read on my lunch break, and with my mind reset we’ll see. It does remind me of Vincent Virga’s Gaywyck, and that is actually very high praise.
I also kind of smirked when I typed today’s title, because that title–and song–inspired a book idea in me–waaaay back when the song was fresh and shiny and new. It’s a story I still toy with from time to time; I’ve always wanted to write something dystopian, and this, among others, is one of the few dystopian ideas that actually stuck. I’ll probably never write it, of course–I’ve recognized that I will probably never get the chance to turn all of my ideas into published work–but it nags at me every once in a while.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I am not sure when I’ll be able to post tomorrow–it depends on what time we have to be there tomorrow–but if I am not able to post before we go, I’ll take the iPad with me and try to write it in the waiting room. At any rate, I will be here at some point again tomorrow. Till then!
I slept late this morning (Sparky tried at 7:30 but failed) primarily, I think, because it rained all night and is still raining this morning. We’re in a flash flood watch, and it’s going to rain for sure the rest of the morning, which is lovely. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday, other than some chores and relaxing, which was wonderful–after I finished my work duties yesterday, of course. I didn’t read very much, either, but I did let my mind roam freestyle and I scribbled a lot of notes in my journal. I also have a newsletter to get out this weekend that I haven’t finished yet, either. Since it’s another gray, thunderstorm kind of day, I’m not sure how much I will actually get done today, either. But I do feel rested and good this morning, the apartment is in better shape than it was when I got up yesterday morning, and I did some serious chores. Tomorrow I’ll try to get up early again, and see how that day feels. I”m kind of liking this “at home, warm comfy and dry” feeling with the rain outside this morning, honestly.
Since it was raining yesterday, I assume, Entergy didn’t shut the power off after all; who knows now when they will do it. Heavy sigh. But I didn’t want to start writing or reading or watching something, only to have it turned off, so that is my reasoning for not really getting a lot done yesterday. I feel very rested this morning, though, so not doing much of anything yesterday plus oversleeping this morning clearly was the right choice and decision to be made. I can always, as you can see, rationalize anything.
I decided, as I waited for Paul to get home yesterday, to revisit episodes of the original Dark Shadows on Amazon Prime. It occurred to me that every time I think about, or start, a rewatch I always start at the beginning–with Victoria on the train for Collinsport, and the initial storylines…and that I didn’t remember any of the storylines on the show after the Barnabas origin story in the 1780s. They’ve sorted the episodes into seasons that have no bearing in the plots; they’re just kind of random. I did remember the storyline that is starting this season–the alternate time with the curse of Brutus Collins the lottery, and the deadly room the winner had to spend the night in–which drove them either mad or killed them. Kate Jackson (!!) is in this storyline as Bramwell’s (Jonathan Frid) wife. It was fun to while away some time revisiting Dark Shadows in its original form. We also watched the new Keanu Reeves movie, Outcome, and while it was an interesting watch, the movie was completely stolen by Susan Lucci, playing his mother who was also a Real Housewives of Beverly Hills cast member. Paul and I laughed all the way through her scene.
Not sure what today is going to be like, honestly. The rain is so relaxing, it’s perfect for getting under a blanket and reading in my easy chair all day, which sounds like an absolute winner. There’s also a lot for me to do as far as blogging and working on newsletters and working on the computer files. I should probably also do organizing of the work space, which is never a waste of time.
And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and go read for a while. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.
Sunday morning and it’s Mother’s Day again; the third since my own passed away back in 2023. It’s hard to believe sometimes that it’s been that long, and other times it seems like an eternity. In fairness, Mom died right before my health collapsed for several years–there’s been a lot of shit happening since Valentine’s Day in 2023–so it’s not surprising that it can seem so long ago. This one isn’t as hard as the first one was, or even last year, which kind of bugs me a bit, as it seems like (to me anyway) it’s getting easier, and I wasn’t sure if that was actually okay or not. As Dad says, there’s no instruction manual for life to tell you how to behave or how you’re supposed to react to things like this so we all kind of just have to find our own way, I suppose. Dad will never get over it or used to it, and in a perverse kind of way that is a double-edged sword; I knew he loved Mom, and his misery breaks my heart–but at the same time his unhappiness (“I just don’t have fun anymore”) makes me love him all the more for loving Mom so much? Does that even make sense? What does that say about me as a person? Do I even want to know the answer to that question? Probably not. One of the reasons I do all these things with Dad is because I don’t want him to have to do it alone. How can something make you sad but make you love someone more? Someday it will make sense to me, I suppose, but I also know I kind of cling to him now that she’s gone. I mean, he really is all I have left besides my sister and Paul (and Sparky).
Sigh.
It’s sunny outside this morning, so I guess yesterday’s rain has passed. It was lovely yesterday, raining all day and gray and gloomy. I decided going to the library sale to drop off books could be postponed another week–who wants to lug boxes of books through a heavy rain? Not me, certainly. Instead, after getting some things done in the morning, I chose to repair to my easy chair where I stayed and finished reading Carol Goodman’s The Sonnet Lover (which was superb; more to come later), which was a lovely way to spend a rainy day–my chair, a blanket, a purring cat in my lap, and a good book; who could ask for a more relaxing way to spend the day? Not me. Once Paul was home from the gym and his trainer and some errands, we ordered Chinese for dinner and caught up on Euphoria, The Boys, and Hacks. We also started a new Apple series, Widow’s Bay, which has a very interesting tone and is itself actually pretty interesting. I thought it was a thriller series–it stars Matthew Rhys, whom we really enjoyed in The Beast in Me–but it’s about a cursed island with a deadly history and it appears to be waking up primarily because those on the island have seemed to have forgotten its horrible history? It’s also a bit funny, too–but we didn’t quite get it completely; I am intrigued and will continue watching; I am not sure if Paul will, so we may need to find something else to watch this evening.
I think I’m going to cook out today, actually, which means placing an order for delivery–I need meat for the grill, and I also have some chores to do this morning–I need to do the dishes and the kitchen floor–and I am hoping to do some writing and reading today. I’ve picked out my next read from the TBR pile, but I want to finish rereading Listen for the Whisperer and my Rick Brant juvenile series mystery before starting on something new. I have another newsletter to write or two–I am doing one about the cemeteries in Alabama, and another one about The Sonnet Lover–and I definitely want to do some fiction writing today as well. I kind of need to get my mind reset and rebooted to my day-to-day existence, too. I slept late again this morning, which was nice, but I had kind of hoped to wake up earlier than I did. Ah, well, no sense crying over spilt milk.
And now, on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get some more coffee, make some breakfast, and do come cleaning and organizing and a little bit of reading. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back again bright and early tomorrow morning. Till then, au revoir.
Yesterday was chill. It was raining pretty hard when I got up—it had rained through the night as well—and so I just kind of took my time getting ready and doing chores before it was time to take Sparky to the vet (I always worry he thinks he’s being abandoned again, which makes me terribly sad), ran some errands—which included picking up my copy of the new Jordan Harper, A Violent Masterpiece, which I am excited about reading—before heading out on the highway looking for adventure. It started raining again once I got on I-10 East, and this downpour continued with very low visibility, until I got past Hattiesburg on 59. It continued raining on me the entire way—sprinkling and light fog once I crossed the state line into Alabama, and the mapping app took me on a tour of rural Alabama shortly after crossing the state line. But it was snug and cozy in the car for me while the rain battered the car and I prudently put on my hazard lights to make me more visible to cars coming up behind me. It took about six hours, total, which is what it usually does, honestly, so I clearly didn’t lose any time to the rain. I felt pretty certain that it had slowed me down, but clearly it didn’t. Go figure.
I also was greatly enjoying listening to Alafair Burke’s superb The Note, which is simply brilliant in its premise and structured beautifully, as are all of Alafair’s forays into fiction. I’ve been reading her work for a very long time now—it really is startling how quickly time slipped through my fingers—and I am absolutely loving this one. I’ll finish it on the way south on Monday when we car pool down to the panhandle.
Well, now it’s evening and I’m feeling exhausted. Obviously, I didn’t finish this and post it; I got caught up in the swing of the day and there wasn‘t an opportunity until now, as I am preparing my weary body to head to bed for the night. I had an odd night’s sleep; I tossed and turned and never felt really asleep last night. I woke up at four, but went back to sleep, going into a very deep sleep for a few hours and sleeping later than I had intended. So, I got off on the wrong foot this morning, and kind of felt behind, or off-kilter, all day. We spent most of the day driving around from cemetery to cemetery, removing faded or weather worn plastic flowers from tombstones and side vases and replacing them with new ones (I kind of think of these little trips as Family Cemetery Tours, which is macabre but also a bit funny). I kind of like going to the cemeteries, to be honest. There’s so much history in a cemetery, and there’s a story behind every tombstone—oh, this man shot his wife and then himself, they had five teenaged sons; or why is the mother and son buried together, but no husband/father or wife; or—you get the idea. Some of these cemeteries are as old as the county, with Civil War veterans and a few Revolutionary War soldiers buried in them. Some headstones are so old they have been worn smooth by the weather and are unreadable. So many children, before vaccines and medications. Why did this woman never marry, in a time when that was unusual? Why are some graves—really old ones—covered with a slab of cement, or has a little triangular shaped metal tent on top of them? If this was to protect the corpses from scavenging animals, why aren’t all the graves from that time period done the same way? Naturally, standing in the cemetery on a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon in rural Alabama, my creativity started going wild.
I do feel like I do my best work when I write about Alabama, but at the same time so much of it is so steeped in the county and in the family history I am hesitant to publish any of it; partly because it feels so personal to me, and secondly, because I didn’t grow up here. I think that sense of not being where I was supposed to be, where we should have been, also played a factor in my always feeling like an outsider. I am of Alabama, but I am also not of Alabama, so even when I write about Alabama I feel like a fraud. Every step of the way writing Bury Me in Shadows I considered pulling the plug and writing something else to turn into my publisher to fulfill the contract I’d signed. There are so many Alabama stories and novel ideas in my files; I did publish another one last year, “The Spirit Tree,” and one of my personal favorites of my own short stories, “Smalltown Boy” is also one of my Alabama stories. I would love to tell all the stories I was told growing up, about the history of the county and legends of lore of my family history. So what if some (most) of it wasn’t true and were simply tales my grandmother reinvented for me? But that can work, too—I’d be writing fiction anyway, right? I used her story about the Lost Boys for Bury Me in Shadows, after all, and that worked out okay, didn’t it?
I really do need to get back to writing, don’t I?
So now I am going to go to bed. I am not entirely sure when I will be here again, but I also didn’t think I would get any entries done while I am away, so who knew? Take care till I am back again!
El Castillo at Chichen Itza. I was there over thirty years ago and loved it.
First day of vacation, and Sparky let me sleep late. He even slept in the bed with me, which he never does. And wow, did I sleep well. The weather turned yesterday; it started raining in the morning and continued to do so, off and on, all day. It was still sprinkling when I got home from the office, and we had torrential rains and thunderstorms last night. I was a bit tired when I got home last night–I spent the day at the office making sure I didn’t leave any loose ends that might need my input dangling before my vacation. I watched the latest episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, reunion part two, and I really was…well, mostly bored. As I watched, I kept thinking I don’t like any of these women other than Rachel and Jennifer, and the rest can be gladly retired. I also don’t care about any of their conflicts, so why was I watching? I’d skipped most of the season, only checking in as the season was drawing to a close, and honestly, I don’t feel like I missed anything. I don’t really watch any of the Housewives regularly anymore (outside of Salt Lake City), and I used to watch all of them. I also have to admit that if not for SLC, I probably wouldn’t watch any of them anymore.
Today’s forecast is for rain all day, and I am a bit nervous to check the weather along my route; but I’ll be listening to my book and snug inside the car. I just have to watch out for other drivers…and of course, I’ll be driving through the countryside of Alabama in the dark yet again. It really is creepy. I have to pick up around here and pack, get cleaned up, load the car and take Sparky to the Cat Practice. I am also going to swing uptown and pick up a prescription and the mail on the way out of town. Jazz Fest was canceled yesterday; that’s how bad the weather was here. I got stuck in Jazz Fest traffic on the way home and was more than a bit annoyed; it took over a half an hour for me to get home from work, and yes, I was worn out by the time I got home. Sparky was also very loving and needy when I got home, so hence it was to my easy chair with me to get caught up on the news (bleargh). I did watch some more history and lore and legends of Alabama and Kansas, and started thinking about writing history once again. I’ve actually created this entire universe of my fictional county in Alabama (based primarily on the county we’re from) that goes back to the early statehood days–I love the idea of my cursed county, whose history was written in blood–and maybe someday I’ll start working on that some more. There are any number of short stories, novellas, and book ideas set there that I’ve either made notes on, or started writing; I’ve also never told the story of how Blackwood Hall (from Bury Me in Shadows) burned during the war. There are legends that were talked about in that book, but nobody really knew for sure what happened to the house and the family that remained there while the menfolk were off at war.
And of course, going to Alabama today probably has a lot to do with why I’ve been thinking about it so much lately. You think?
I have to admit I was highly amused by the Royal visit to Washington this week. At first, I was annoyed that Charles and Camilla were coming, and thus legitimizing this corrupt regime. I’ve never been a fan of either (I loved Diana, and will shred and block for Diana slander), and hated how they seemed to win out in the end. I also figured if any British royals had to do it, it might as well be them. But…I have to say I was highly amused. The gift of a bellend with his name on it was simply too delicious to be borne, and the fact he was excited like a toddler on Christmas morning to get it made it even more hilarious. Too stupid to know when you’re being mocked is certainly a look–and the fact that the Brits knew he’d be thrilled about being mocked to his face? Chef’s kiss.
How sad is it that a foreign royal had to give a pro-America pro-democracy speech to our Congress to remind them of their jobs, their sacred duty, and what their role is to standing ovations, which from the Reich Right was either proof they didn’t know what he was talking about, or it was just politeness from the “fuck your feelings” crowd; who knows? But they certainly have jumped on board with gerrymandering once our illegal and illegitimate Supreme Court okayed it. They are all such despicably corrupt monsters–Alito, Roberts, Barrett, Gorsuch, and the other two scumbags–but the Right has been pushing fascism since the Reagan years, if not longer, and you can miss me with your praise for that prick, too.
I’m still angry about the VRA, and white people continue to be the absolute worst. I saw a Iowa farmer (also a Trump voter would be my guess, because he never mentioned once who he voted for–because anyone who didn’t vote for this is very upfront about it because they are angry) whining about his farming subsidies being cut–guess he’s not too happy about the austerity and billionaire tax cuts he voted for. But isn’t time he stopped being a welfare queen suckling at the teats of the US taxpayers? Are you really so mediocre at your job you need to be subsidized? Why are my tax dollars going to support his lazy ass? Pull yourself up by the bootstraps! After all, you’re white and everything breaks your way and this country–yet you still need welfare. I sure hope you’re not wasting taxpayer money on luxuries like soda or candy, bitch–those are my tax dollars you’re draining from the Treasury, and I think you should only be allowed to eat what people on SNAP are allowed–and maybe a periodic drug-and-alcohol test. I mean, isn’t that what people like him think about handouts to other people?
The United States, where mediocre white people take handouts from the taxpayers while complaining about other people getting it being lazy freeloaders. Fuck you all the way to hell, rural Trump voters. How’s that price of gas looking for all that driving y’all have to do? Me, I live in one of those “horrible Democratic run blue cities”–and only need to buy a tank of gas per month because if I leave town I don’t even drive three hundred miles PER MONTH. Why aren’t you screaming LET’S GO TYRANT?
I watched this filth tear down Joe Biden for four years. Are y’all better off than you were two years ago? I thought this was all about economic anxiety, not racism? Remember those bald-faced lies? Christ on the cross. I am so fucking glad I’m old and don’t have children.
Sigh.
But this trip will be a nice break from reality. I won’t be seeing much news while I am gone, and won’t be posting here probably again until I get back on Wednesday. It’ll be nice spending time with Dad and my aunt, and there’s just something about the county–and being in Alabama–that feels comforting.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely weekend and first half of the week; I doubt I’ll be here again before I get home next week, so until then–hang in there, because always remember, this too will pass.
Sexy Richard DuBois poses for a physique magazine cover in the 1950s…but we know who the real target audience actually was.
Thunder woke me up from a lovely deep sleep around five this morning, and we had a marvelous thunderstorm (and downpour) that last for about three hours…and yes, it was snug and comfy in the bed, especially after Sparky joined me in the bed for a cuddle-nap of his own. It now looks as though the storm has passed–and yes, I know Jazz Fest is this weekend, and yes, it sucks for the attendees and acts when it rains, but I still selfishly want more storms. I have to make groceries and get gas today, and would rather not do it in the rain…but it would be lovely if it kept storming this morning. According to the weather, we may have more later today and the drizzle we’re experiencing right now will last another couple of hours. I can also scratch “wash car” off the to-do list. Thanks, rain!
I slept well and feel good this morning. Paul is leaving on Tuesday for a week, and I am heading north next Friday for Alabama and then a few days in the panhandle visiting my recently widowed aunt. Sparky will be boarded (and get those razor blades trimmed), and he of course will be glued to me like velcro the entire time Paul is actually gone. Yesterday was a good day; I ran a couple of errands after work and came home to try to do some cleaning and picking up around here–as well as thinking about the work in progress, whose name may change…it occurred to me yesterday that there was a better title than the one I’m using–but I do love one-word titles and rarely get to use them.
We ordered pizza for dinner last night and finished watching Unchosen, which was, indeed, a wild ride. I am not certain they stuck the landing, but whoever came up with the idea to use the trope “a stranger comes to town” only having the “town” be a religious cult was a genius. It was very well done, though, and it was a fun ride. I do recommend it–Fra Fee is gorgeous to look at, and the acting is incredible–and since “cult”…you really don’t know what’s going to happen, and the surprising twists are all earned; there’s nothing there that wasn’t set up if you were paying attention. And as I said to Paul as we watched, “cults are really about the subjugation of women as lesser” and yup, that even holds true for the national cult we’ve been dealing with since the 1980s–the marriage of evangelicalism to the Republican Party. I’m sure there’s been some political history written about that horrible shift if the 1980 presidential election, and in retrospect, I’d say not electing Carter to a second term was one of the biggest mistakes this country has made. I don’t know whether or not Carter was a good president or not–but he was also trying to clean up the economic mess he inherited from his Republican predecessors and took all the blame for it; and you know, the Camp David accords did end decades of war between Egypt and Israel–and has lasted; the longest lasting peace in the Middle East since 1948. I’m not deregulating the airlines was the right decision–sometimes, regulation is necessary and needed; and what has happened to the airline industry since deregulation is certainly an interesting political and economic example someone should do an in-depth heavily researched history of how it impacted the nation’s economy, whether good or bad. It would be an interesting read.
When I finish this, I am going to repair to my easy chair and do some more reading. I want to read another chapter of Listen for the Whisperer and a short story I started reading this week so I could write about it, and I want to do some writing today, too. As I said earlier, I need to run to the grocery store and get some things, and I should get gas while I am out and about. I think I am also going to watch a documentary so I can write about it–I’ve been meaning to for a very long time, and I think I may have even watched the documentary once already; or maybe I just intended to and never got around to it. My sense of time is very skewed now; it’s very hard to believe the summer of the shutdown was six years ago; at this time six years ago I was already working in the garage, getting to eat donated meals from places grateful we were doing COVID testing (the meals from Waffle House were definitely my favorites; the hash browns were to die for) but it does seem like a million years ago now, doesn’t it? Likewise, things that have happened in the interim since? I have no idea when it happened. Then again, it freaks me out to know that I had those impacted teeth pulled sixteen years ago. Crazy, right? My concept of time, always not the best, has definitely been impacted.
And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get another cup of coffee so I can get going on my day. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow. Till then, ta ta!
Monday and back to the office with me this morning. We’re also going to be busy in the clinic today, so I am not going to have time to do much around my clients. Which is fine; last week was slower than usual so it’s no big deal that we’re booked heavily this week. The weekend was lovely and relaxing, which was precisely what I needed. I got to see friends on Friday that I don’t get to see as often as I would like, which was lovely, and while I may have been more tired than usual on the weekend, I did have a nice relaxing weekend and got a lot of things done. It rained overnight Saturday into Sunday afternoon, which was lovely despite the lack of thunder (I always prefer thunderstorms to just rain). The temperature dropped after the rain, too–and I think it may have rained some overnight. I definitely woke up to a sinus revolt this morning. Thank God for Claritin-D, which has made my life ever so much better. It’s going to be in the sixties today before heading back into the seventies as the week progresses.
I got up late yesterday morning–it was the rain, seriously, because there’s nothing better than being in bed snug and warm while it rains–and didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, as always. I did do some of my chores before Paul got up, and got groceries ordered and delivered in the mid-afternoon. We then went back to The Night Agent and binged that for the rest of the day. I still have chores to do, of course, and I need to make some groceries on the way home from the office today. I also have to get some of these chores done/finished tonight, but it will depend on how I feel when I get home from the office today, and how needy Sparky is when I get home.
But it was nice having a lazy Sunday, you know?
I did some writing planning yesterday while watching television, and worked on some newsletter ideas. I think I have finally found my way into the essay series about masculinity, and I have a great idea for another. Yes, one should have been completed and sent this weekend, but I am going to try to shoot for Wednesday this week and then another this weekend. I’d like to keep the Wednesday/weekend duality going forward (unless I’m not here), and missing one delivery date here and there isn’t going to disappoint anyone other than myself…which is how it should be, actually. As Cher says, “I only answer to myself and God.” (And since I don’t really believe in God…)
I also watched Clown in a Cornfield yesterday. One of my streaming services (Apple) suggested it to me; I’d forgotten it had been filmed and released last year (I think I knew? I’m not sure), so when I was reminded of it yesterday I thought hell yeah, let‘s watch! The movie was fun–nothing anyone needs to break their leg rushing to go see–but it was an absolutely competent slasher movie. They left out a lot of the societal and political stuff that was slyly slipped into the book and made it so delightfully wicked. I suppose it was unnecessary to the overall point of the movie–slasher fun–but that also lessened the delivery of the big twist to the story. The young cast was good, the dialogue sharp and witty, and it’s a pleasant addition to the canon. There are two sequels to the novel now; I read the first one but haven’t gotten to the third part of the trilogy. I’m also looking forward to streaming Scream 7 when it’s available.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning again.
I will never tire of taking pictures of New Orleans’ marvelous live oaks
Thursday and it’s not my last day in the office for the week; I have to go in for a meeting tomorrow morning, but I get to leave right after so that will be nice; I’ll run some errands on the way home and get that out of the way for the weekend; anything else can be delivered. I didn’t really want to get up this morning, or out of bed; knowing I have to get up to an alarm tomorrow morning (Good Friday) doesn’t help much, either. But it rained overnight so I did sleep well, despite the rain kicking my sinuses back into fifth gear. I’ll be semi-sort of busy today at work; yesterday was busy but not terribly exhausting. I’m having dinner with a friend tomorrow night, so that’s something to look forward to. I do feel pretty okay this morning, but my legs are a bit fatigued. I’m also starving, so I need to eat something before I head to work this morning.
Yesterday was a rainy day alternating with sunshine and blue skies; there was a terrific downpour in the mid-afternoon which made me wish I was home with Sparky in my lap, reading. Ah, well, it wasn’t to be, and the damp in the air made the air conditioning at the office feel even colder. It was a good, if busy, day; I had a lot of clients and a lot of work to catch up on…I am almost current with everything, but hopefully coming in tomorrow morning for the meeting will help me get a lot of that done. It’s weird, it’s about a year from when I got so sick last year and wound up in the hospital, so I am really paying attention to my body and keeping an eye out for warning signs. I am medicated for that condition now (so many pills every morning and night, sigh), so it shouldn’t be an issue but…this year is probably the only year I will worry about it returning. But it does make for some not-as-bad-as-they-used-to-be stressed reactive thinking for a moment or so.
It was also very weird but I recently managed to feel bad for Lindsey Graham, and it’s not that often that I feel bad for a terrible person. I despise Graham, but there are a lot of things you can use to attack him rather than calling him gay or Miss Lindsey or Aunt Pittypat–all of which are not only homophobic but also transphobic in some cases. Yes, there are a lot of closeted gay men in the MAGA movement (self-loathing, party of one, your table is ready), and yes, they do a lot of damage not just to queers but to everyone who isn’t a white man…but mocking them for being gay and closeted isn’t it. With all due respect, Graham has undoubtedly been bullied and mocked for being gay his entire life–and as someone who also experienced that until I came out, I can empathize and have sympathy for that. Also, if he wants to go to, and enjoys, Disney World, and also likes bubble wands? On the one hand, I am not opposed to anything that makes someone happy, and the notion that straight adult men can’t love Disney is…well, gendered. I don’t know if Lindsey Graham is gay or bisexual or whatever it is that he likes to do; he may be asexual for all we know. But I don’t like speculation (or bullying) based on rumors. Lindsey Graham is a horrible, horrible human being; we don’t need to throw all queers under the bus in order to drag him for filth. It’s also very interesting how many “allies” will immediately go to queer slurs and insults if they decide someone “deserves” it. Graham deserves to be bullied and mocked and dragged, but not for going to Disney World (in itself nothing shameful; but shame him for going instead of doing his job, not because it’s a “gendered” thing to love Disney as an adult) or for possibly having an alternate sexuality. Don’t make me defend Lindsey Graham anymore, people. I don’t like it–but bullying someone for being gay, whether they are or not, is bullshit.
There are plenty of reasons to drag Graham–his masculinity isn’t one of them.
Likewise, I don’t care what Bryon Noem does in his private life, and what kind of marriage the Noems have had (staying married for their Christian bona fides would be my guess)…but yes, it’s the height of hypocrisy to be the morality police for everyone else when you have a marriage agreement of some sort, just like Erikkka Kirk can’t wrap herself in her wailing widowhood when she’s clearly been having the time of her life since her husband’s murder–and it’s not even been a full year yet. MAGA people are clearly mostly freaks privately and that’s fine. As long as no one is being harmed and consent is involved, knock your socks off. But don’t police everyone else’s morality when you have feet of clay, you know?
Let’s not forget the couch fucker also did drag when he was in college.
Sigh.
Paul didn’t get home last night before I went to bed, so it was just me and Sparky in my easy chair watching news clips and watching documentaries about inbred Hapsburgs, which I enjoy for some reason. The Hapsburgs have always fascinated me, with their inbreeding and religious fanaticism (which always makes me shake my head; there is literally nothing in the Bible that instructs anyone to mass murder people who believe differently. The Hapsburgs were the illustration of “there’s no hate quite like Christian love.” I wasn’t tired, but Sparky was very needy and wanted my lap to sleep in; he was dead to the world, dreaming and talking some in his sleep, and so I didn’t want to disturb him. It’s silly, I know–he’ll just go sleep somewhere else if I get up–but the dirty looks he gives me when I do disturb him are quite compelling. No one can side-eye quite like a sleepy cat, can they?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. It may rain again today, and it’s definitely going to be muggy today. Sigh. I need to pick up some more Claritin tomorrow. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.
There’s nothing prettier than the Quarter on a foggy evening
Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, as tomorrow is work-at-home Friday. I did feel better yesterday than I had all week, but was off-balance a bit because someone else I know died; it was particularly sad because this was a long-time friend I had to go no-contact with, and there was (is) always a spot in my brain that always thinks you know, maybe someday you’ll reconcile, and I think part of my sadness and being off-balance yesterday is because now that remote possibility is gone. I do mourn the friendship we once had; we had such good times together laughing until my sides actually ached with pain, and of course she will always be a part of my memories of our trip to Italy (one of the highest points of my life). I need to process this more thoroughly, of course, and won’t really have time to devote to it until this weekend.
Obviously, it’s intuitive that the longer you live the more friends and loved ones will die, but that was a very major part of my own obliviousness–losing people I genuinely love was never anything I saw coming or thought would ever happen, which, of course, isn’t particularly smart. Perhaps the obliviousness was a protective thing because I had so much anxiety, and morbid thoughts about the deaths of people I care about would have given me even more anxiety–so I think my brain went into coping mode and developed a subconscious filter as a protective shield of sorts. But seriously, Grim Reaper–could you direct your energies outside of my circle for a while? Please?
The St Patrick’s Day Irish Channel parade is this Saturday, so I will, most likely, run as many errands as I can tomorrow so I don’t have to leave the house and deal with parade nonsense Saturday. I need to go to Costco for sure, pick up the mail, and get some office supplies, pick up a prescription, and I also need to swing by CVS to get some more Claritin-D, the only thing that really works on my sinuses (sinii?) as we are heading into that season again. It’s been hot and muggy all week, with the occasional shower (nothing gully-washing, alas; it did rain for a while yesterday afternoon but when I was coming home after work it was already all over other than the thick, cloying watery air. I made some groceries on the way, too, so tonight after work I can just come straight home, change into my sweats, and do a few chores. I was also very tired yesterday after work, and I feel a bit tired this morning, too. Whether or not I have the energy to do some chores tonight remains to be seen, or I may just sit in my chair, make a cat bed for my sweet Sparky, and watch some more of The Traitors UK. I finished season three last night, so will be delving into season four tonight.
We also had storms overnight that helped me sleep well; I didn’t even know until I saw that everything outside was still wet this morning. We apparently were also in a tornado watch, but…heavy weather always sends me into a deeper sleep. I think I could hear the windows rattling in the wind a few times last night, but immediately went back into the death-like embrace of my deep sleep. I feel rested but a bit tired, typical for a Thursday morning. I don’t think it’ll rain more, but it’s also colder this morning than it has been all week. Maybe we were having some false spring with the heat and humidity? It’s also coming up on stinging caterpillar season. Fortunately, we don’t have any live oaks on the property or our block, so I won’t run the risk of stepping on one. The pollen is also back, and everything seems to be getting a regular dusting of yellow. This “cold” spell–fifties at night, seventies during the day–is more typical of early to mid-March, and this seems to be the case running through the weekend. Maybe–just maybe–this weekend will be the weekend when I get my shit together and get back to reading and writing. Perchance to dream, right?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this fine Thursday morning. Have a lovely day and I’ll check back in with you again tomorrow morning!
Queer and Loathing in America 