Tag: Scorched Grace

We Found Love

Friday and Saints and Sinners starts today! In fact, the box office is probably already open and people are picking up their badges and bags and programs as I type this. I’ll be heading down there later this afternoon–taking a Lyft to the Monteleone–because I do have some things to get done this morning and early afternoon. I’ve taken today off from work because I’ll be losing the weekend to Saints and Sinners, so all the things I usually do on the weekends, I have to do before I head down there today. I’ll be coming back tomorrow night to spend the night with Scooter and make sure he’s okay, and then of course after the closing on Sunday I have to get back home because I have to get up early for work on Monday morning. I will undoubtedly be drained and tired from all the talking and walking and socializing–things I’m generally not used to anymore–so I am glad that I took the time to get ahead of day job work this week so there won’t be a lot of pressure for me to get things done Monday; it’s nice to ease your way back into your reality after a weekend of talking about books and writing.

I didn’t get as much done as I might have hoped for last night, alas. I did get some good work on the book done, which is great, and I did do some things around here. I also spent some time watching this week’s Superman and Lois, which I am still enjoying but the recasting of Jonathan hasn’t really stuck with yet–which makes me feel bad for the replacement actor (I always thought of Al Corley as Stephen on Dynasty, even though his replacement Jack Coleman played the part far longer)–but I like the way the show portrays Superman and I also like the “cozy” aspects of the setting being Smallville. I meant to pick out a book to start reading last night but couldn’t decide which one; I’m thinking The Lost Americans by Christopher Bollen (his A Beautiful Crime is perhaps one of my favorite queer crime novels, for any number of reasons) or Margot Douaihy’s Scorched Grace, which sounds really fantastic. I also have any number of other crime novels on hand, and I’ve also been thinking that I should probably read in another genre for a while to cleanse the palate in a way; that’s kind of why Scorched Grace is appealing; it looks and sounds highly original and deeply clever. I won’t have time to read anything this weekend anyway, if I don’t have time to get started today on my reading. I am almost finished with The Power Broker, too; and I have a lot of thoughts about the book that coincide with other massive books I’ve read about political power and those who have and wield it which I will undoubtedly share with you, Constant Reader, once I’ve finally finished the book.

It’s a bit overcast outside this morning, and I also feel very well rested. I slept very well last night and I allowed myself to sleep later than usual. I woke up at three, five, and again at six, and decided that it was better to sleep in–although I probably should have gotten up early so I can sleep tonight at the hotel. Paul got the same massive suite he had last year, so it’s kind of fun to have that place as an escape from everything. I’ll take pictures and post them once I get down there. I do have to run get the mail, do some laundry and more cleaning as well as writing and editing this morning. I am also resisting the urge to take the manuscript with me down there this weekend; I doubt very seriously that I would ever have the time to actually sit down and work on it. I think I’ll just take the laptop and see if I can keep revising rather than copy-editing the first half just yet.

I stepped away from this for awhile and came back to it, after getting to work on the laundry and the dishes issues (unloading and putting away; washing and starting another load in the dishwasher). I am going to be able to run the errands in a little bit, and then I’m going to straighten up around here and try to get heading down to the Quarter a little earlier than I’d planned. I probably should pick up some things for the room–sodas and so forth–but maybe not. I don’t know. I always end up taking more stuff with me than I need, which I just then have to lug back home with me.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and do more work around the house so I can run the errands and get down to Saints and Sinners. Have a lovely Friday morning, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

Pon de Replay

Monday and back to the office with me this morning.

I slept very well last night and woke up quite easily. The weather took a turn for the colder over the weekend (yay)–the high today is a bitter 54–which makes it harder to get out of bed in the morning, but at least the heat is working properly; it really has made a significant difference getting that new system two or three years ago. I got some work done yesterday–good work, at that–and also managed to finish reading Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick, which was quite fun; a nasty little hard-boiled tale of murder and vengeance behind the scenes of professional wrestling. More on that later, but it was a fun, tightly written little story. Now I’m trying to decide what to read next–either Christopher Bollen’s The Lost Americans, or Margot Douahy’s Scorched Grace, or Ellen Byron’s Wined and Died in New Orleans. A virtual plethora of excellent options. The Festivals are of course this weekend and I have to get my weekend planned, including reaching out to my panelists (I’m moderating a panel on Sunday) and of course, there’s always editing I need to get done. I’ll be commuting, so we don’t have to board Scooter, which will be a bit of a pain, especially if it’s cold (note to self: check weather forecasts for the weekend). Scooter is being a needy kitty this morning, he’s up on my desk and purring, but every time I put him into my lap he climbs back up on the desk and then of course gets between me and the screen wanting to give me headbutts while he continues to be an out of control purring machine. (Why he doesn’t want to be cuddled up with Paul in our incredibly comfortable and warm bed remains a mystery for the ages.)

The revision isn’t going as quickly as I would like, frankly–but it’s going and it’s going well; I am starting to pick up momentum with the revision and would love to have it finished before the weekend, but I don’t think that’s going to happen, unless I really stay rested and motivated and don’t get worn out during the day at work, which happens–especially when you’re getting up at six every morning during the week. My big fear here is that I’ll be very tired when the weekend rolls around, which isn’t good. Maybe I’ll take Friday off, so I can sleep late and not have to worry about being tired? That’s the day I’ll have to take a Lyft to the hotel with my little bag so I am there. I’ll probably stay down there Friday night, come home Saturday night, and then head back down there for Sunday afternoon and then back home yet again.

We started watching the new season of Ted Lasso last night, which is marvelous (I’d already seen the first episode–impatience, of course– but was more than happy to rewatch it with Paul); it really might be one of my favorite comedy series of all time, if not the absolute favorite (Schitt’s Creek is still up there), and it’s just as charming as ever. I’m curious to see how the season goes, especially since it’s going to be the last season–but I hope the talk of spin-off series for some of the characters comes to fruition; although whether the strong characters can tentpole a show of their own remains to be seen. I am confident that both Hannah Waddingham and Juno Temple could spin off into their own quite easily; the others I’m not as confident about, to be honest….although a Sam and Rebecca (how Cheers of them!) spin-off could be quite lovely.

And we still have the whacked out, over the top joy of Outer Banks still to watch, too. Huzzah! Now if we can only live through this coming weekend and survive…

Its a bit hard to believe the first quarter of the year is coming to a close, and DAMN IT, I have to get my taxes organized and done, don’t I? Put that at the top of the to-do list for post-Festival. Heavy heaving sigh. I really should keep track every month, update a spreadsheet with the expenses for the previous month, and then at the end of the year it would all be ready to go, wouldn’t it? But why on earth would I ever do anything that would make my life easier in any way? Self-defeating, as always; I shall probably go to my grave wondering why I sabotage or undermine my abilities to succeed and/or get ahead and/or act like an adult. Ah, well, today and tonight I am going to try to get myself better organized and make a game plan for moving on with the rest of the year.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Sorry to be such a crashing bore on a Monday morning, but that does seem about par for the course, does it not? See you tomorrow!

Russian Roulette

Tuesday! Tuesday! We survived Monday and lived to tell another day!

You know, I’ll take accomplishment wherever I can find it these days.

Yesterday was a better day; I think making it into the office and spending the day doing my duties around the office helped banish things to the background rather than keeping them there in the front of my mind. I ran some errands when I left the office–mail, pick up a prescription–and then came home to have a nice quiet evening at home, alone. The festivals are next weekend, so hopefully at some point I’ll have my husband back. If I could only get him to work the same schedule as me…but that will never happen. I can’t say that I blame him, either; if it were up to me this getting up at six thing would long be in my rearview mirror. Adjustments. Life is all about the adjustments.

I was very tired when I got home last night, though, and didn’t get much of anything done as a result. I feel better this morning–not that I couldn’t have slept another few hours, of course, and it’s chilly this morning in the Lost Apartment; ah, it’s a frigid 47 degrees outside, that could explain the chill I am feeling this morning. I’m glad I slept well, though; it’s such a struggle when I didn’t. I feel rested this morning–we’ll see how long that lasts, won’t we?–and my coffee tastes good this morning and I think it’s going to be a good day. Of course, there are all kinds of variables that are out of my control–will there be horrible and inconsiderate drivers encountered on the way to the office (of course there will)? They are also working on repairing and repaving Elysian Fields by the office as well; this made leaving an issue yesterday and could make it even more of one tonight when I get off work. I ran errands on the way home last night, and I don’t think I really need to do anything after work other than come straight home tonight, which is lovely. Tomorrow is Pay-the-Bills Day (always a joy), and I am looking forward to doing some writing tonight as well as diving into my next book, which is probably going to be Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick. I might need to switch things up with my reading once I finish Bobby’s book; and read something completely different from everything I’ve been reading lately. I’ve gotten some good books lately–The Velvet Rage, Wined and Died in New Orleans, Scorched Grace–which all look interesting, but maybe I should mix it up by reading horror or science fiction or something completely outside what I usually write and read.

I actually feel good this morning–I know I’ve already said it, but it’s true–and some of it is mental; I think today is going to be one of the good days; I don’t feel like there’s some kind of darkness in the back of my head, weighing me down the way it felt yesterday. I’m not sure if I’m making sense or not in trying to get what this feels like across to you, but I do feel this morning like I might be coming out of the numbness and the grief–or at least getting a day’s respite from it. It’s very strange. I don’t know if there’s a methodology for this or not–everyone grieves differently–but it becomes so incredibly tiresome not having any kind of instruction manual or rules for anything. I suppose I could read Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking, but I’m a little Didion-ed out, to be honest. Brilliant wordsmith, of course, but I don’t know that I could handle her memoir of grief.

I also wonder if you are weary of hearing about this, and perhaps I should start keeping it all to myself and not oversharing in my usual oblivious manner? (My complete obliviousness is a character trait I’ve only recently–since the pandemic–become aware of, and explains a lot about my personal history; ironically, I made that very obliviousness a central part of my character Valerie in A Streetcar Named Murder, and people loved her; go figure, right? I guess it’s endearing? In fiction, at any rate.)

God, how I wish I could get back under my blankets in my warm bed. Cold mornings are so uninspiring, really; especially when you have a warm bed with a purring kitty and a mountain of blankets where you can stay comfortable and warm. That’s the best feeling, really; maybe it will be cold Saturday morning when I can stay in bed later. One can dream, at any rate, can’t one?

And on that dull note, I think I am going to go ahead and get ready to spend the day in the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow.