Tag: Sparky

Goo Goo Muck

Pay-the-Bills Wednesday! Another good night’s sleep, another morning of not wanting to get out of the warm and oh-so-comfy bed. I was tired yesterday when I got home from work, and thus didn’t get much of anything done other than cuddling with Sparky and catching up on the news, which is always exhausting and tiring. I did also get to go to bed early last night, too–maybe I should start going to bed at nine instead of between nine-thirty and ten; I certainly fall asleep in my chair well before that.

There’s a new storm in the gulf (Caribbean Sea, actually) formed and no one seems to know where it was going to go–which is always a lovely thing for late October. Her name this time is Michelle, and again it’s very weird to have a hurricane formed and sitting down there off Venezuela when I had my editorial call about Hurricane Season Hustle. My editor loved the book, which is always lovely, and there’s very little for me to do as far as revisions and edits, which is super-nice. The experience of writing this book wasn’t a pleasant one, but it really didn’t have anything to do with the actual writing of the book but everything that went on while I was writing the book. This has colored how I feel about the book, honestly, which is yet another example of why an editor is necessary. But I am very happy it is almost done and out of my hands, and it’s been a hot minute since I had a novel come out….and this is a February 2026 release date. Huzzah!

And now I need to start getting ready to push my way through the next one I want to write, which, at long last, is Chlorine, and I am very excited at finally being able to sink my teeth into this one. I am thinking about doing another Scotty next year, and maybe even a new Chanse (long shot) for the year that series, now ended, turns 25. Twenty-five. The Scotty series turns 25 in 2028…yikes, you know? Of course I don’t want to think about how old I will be on those momentous occasions…oh, that’s a lie. I don’t care that I’m old and getting older every day. I only think of it in the terms of wow that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

I’ve also been learning that I need to be more careful with my words and shouldn’t use some as interchangeably as I always, flippantly, have done. For one example, I’m used to using tired as a catch-all for everything; but there are differences between the feelings that tired doesn’t really adequately convey what I am feeling. This morning, I feel a bit sleepy physically; I’m not tired or fatigued, but like part of my body still hasn’t completely woken up yet. My mind is firing on every cylinder. So, I am trying to use fatigue because it’s more accurate than saying tired; brain fog for that horrible mental feeling; and sleepy for “want to go to, or back to, bed.” You’d think a writer would always be careful with their words, but me? Not so much. I am trying to be better about that, though.

I am loving this low 80’s daytime/mid-60’s at night weather, and it’s going to dip even more next week–going into the low 70’s and mid-50s at night. Hurray for a lower power bill! And next Friday is Halloween! How has that happened already? Heavy sigh. It’s been a rough year, so I probably should be happier that it went by so fast.

And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will see you in the morning on “last day in the office Thursday for the week.”

I love the juxtaposition between the ancient temple and the modern architecture.

Unholy

Monday and back to the office with me this morning. Huzzah, I think. I felt good yesterday, and read a lot further into Hokuloa Road, which I am also really enjoying (more on that later). It was, overall, a nice and relaxed day here in the Lost Apartment. Sparky was good cuddle-boy all day, too, for the most part. He still does his best to get me up at six every morning, but much more intensely when he hears the alarm go off. He knows that means I have to get up, and so he is more persistent on those mornings (like this morning). But I feel rested and good, which is always a better way of starting the week rather than feeling tired, which is how last week developed, and that tired feeling lasted through the week and most of the weekend.

I did some chores yesterday and made progress on getting everything organized and filed away, around reading the book. I also made some progress on other things, too, which was very cool. It was nice having a productive weekend for a change, other than one where I am trying to get rested and nothing much gets done. The LSU loss Saturday morning also kind of killed my interest in watching games on Saturday, which helped me get things done. They play at night this Saturday, hosting undefeated Texas A&M, who have never won in Baton Rouge since joining the SEC–they beat Alabama before they beat LSU, in fact–but they are pretty good this year and LSU is not, so…probably be a long night this Saturday.

I also need to revise and update my to-do list this morning at some point. I’m not sure how busy we will be in the clinic today, but when I checked Thursday it wasn’t bad–that obviously could have changed between then and now. We shall see.

It was both weird and nice to spend so much time reading yesterday. I always forget how much I love reading (I have noted, before, many times, how weird it is that I have to force myself to do things that I love), until I really get caught up in a book. I was hoping it would rain yesterday, but alas–it was not to be. That would have been lovely–raining outside, snuggled under a blanket in my easy chair with Sparky and a cup of coffee, all snug while I read. It just doesn’t get better than that, you know? I am planning on reading some more tonight when I get home from the office before doing some chores–Sparky loves to sleep in my lap once I get home for the day–and if I can do that every night, I can make some progress on this out-of-control TBR pile.

As I said, I am enjoying Hokuloa Road. It’s a slow burn, which I like, slowly picking up speed as you go. It’s set on a made-up island in the Hawaiian Island chain (best I can tell; apologies if I am incorrect and the unnamed island actually does exist), which is fun. I love Hawaii, even if I haven’t been back there in thirty years. It was my parents’ absolute favorite place to go in the world; so every year I worked at the airline we’d go. I fell in love with Hawaii myself more every time we went, and the last time we went I broke away and did gay things; went to the gay bars, went to the gay beach every day, and even got laid a couple of times while I was there. It was a lot of fun, and I had always wanted to write about Hawaii–but only did once, in an erotic short story and like Elizabeth Hand, I never named the setting as a Hawaiian beach. (The story was called “The Sea Where It’s Shallow”–one of my all-time favorite titles–and I don’t remember where it was published originally, but I do know it’s in my collection Promises in Every Star.) I worry about exoticizing Hawaii and it’s native people, as a haole. Maybe I should revisit it? I do know that some novels I’ve read set in Hawaii were very much that…

I also started writing a short story this weekend, with the working title “Even Katydids Dream,” and yes, that’s a very obvious Shirley Jackson reference. It was inspired by that call for submissions for one (!) lucky writer to get into that Stephen King The Shining appreciation anthology–and the furor that followed the announcement. I really don’t like when authors call out anthology editors for opportunities they don’t think are “fair.” Fairness has nothing to do with it, for the record, and it’s their anthology; they can make the rules whatever they want them to be. I was criticized by people for the last open call I did for an anthology because they didn’t like my rules–and I replied to every whining email “don’t submit.” (I also tracked them, so I could be certain not to accept a story from someone who established from the very fucking beginning they would be difficult to work with and entitled–and I almost always back the writers, so for me to be critical of writers…yeah.) Nothing is fair in publishing, so get used to it unless you want to be angry all the time.

I’d rather channel that energy into writing, frankly.

The more I thought about the pompous and pretentious complaints I saw over the course of a few days last week, the more I started thinking about writing something in that universe. But what? And then the idea came to me, followed by the title, so I started writing it. I probably won’t submit it to the call–one of the submission rules (the timing) is something I’m not sure I would be able to handle. They are only considering the first five hundred stories, so when the window opens you have to have everything ready to go so you can hit send when the minute turns–and I know myself too well to think I’ll remember to get up early on that day. But I like the story, and I can always strip all that Overlook Hotel stuff out of it and use it somewhere else if I want to. I may not ever finish it. Who knows?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.

The Dead Dance

Saturday morning with an LSU game on pretty early, at eleven this morning; I’ll still be drinking coffee at that hour. I slept well last night, which felt good–I love the night when the bed has freshly laundered linens and blankets–and Sparky even let me sleep in a little bit. My coffee is tasty this morning as I wake up and prepare for a day in which I probably won’t do much of anything other than read, watch football, and make notes in my journal. I feel a big tired this morning still, but it’s the final stage of the fatigue dying away. I may do some chores and picking up around here during the games, but I am sure by tonight’s Alabama-Tennessee rivalry game I’ll probably be quite sick of watching football games. Miami lost last night, so the rankings are going to be shaken up again, as they will be after all today’s games.

After finishing day job duties yesterday and running my errands, I settled into my easy chair and rewatched Scream, the original, and was reminded again of just how clever this movie is and why I love it so much. I took five pages of notes! The panel on crossing the line between horror and mystery also resonated and has stayed in my head… and I also remembered some things since, like authors we didn’t mention. I also very proudly finished and posted my newsletter on Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives, which was a rave, and also has me in mind of slasher stories….the one on Scream is going to be a pretty good one, methinks. We shall see, I suppose.

After Scream, we settled in to watch our shows for the evening, before retiring to bed pretty early. I also picked up my copies of the third Frendo book, Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo, which sound delicious and a continuation of the exploration of trauma the characters have faced–as well as remembering the rules: in a trilogy, no one is safe in the third chapter–and the latest Donna Andrews. (I am four books behind on her series now.) I really do want to write a slasher novel, and have several ideas for one (my favorite potential title is Where the Boys Die); but I have numerous things I want to write before I turn my fevered brain in that direction. I’m going to work on something for the rest of the month (mostly short stories and a novella) before diving headfirst into Chorine for November. Ideally, I want to have the first draft finished by the end of the month so I can work on something else for December.

I am also planning on revisiting A Nightmare on Elm Street before spooky season ends. And today I am going to dive headfirst into Holokua Road by Elizabeth Hand while I am watching the games, if not starting it before the LSU game starts. I don’t know how LSU will do today against Vanderbilt; they’re pretty good this year, despite their sloppy loss to Alabama in Tuscaloosa. It’s not like LSU has been setting the world on fire this season anyway. So, that game could very easily ruin the energy of the entire day if I am not careful. I also have some short stories to read–I have several horror anthologies and author collections–while I continue to celebrate Halloween Horror Month until the very end.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines for the day. I do have some chores to do this morning as well as some cleaning, filing and organizing. Have a great day, everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early and feeling rested, I hope.

The Life of a Showgirl

Work at home Friday and all is well and quiet in the Lost Apartment this morning. Sparky has been fed, so he won’t attack me for a while, and I have a team meeting on-line later this morning. I also have all kinds of on-line trainings that are due, as well as quality assurance and data entry that needs doing, which I will try to knock out this morning/early afternoon. I don’t have to work a long day today, and will have to run errands later. It’s probably foggy out there this morning–it certainly was yesterday morning when I drove to the office–and it is that time of year: fog season. I love the fog, to be honest–I don’t like to drive in it, but I think its beautiful and spooky and all those fun things that make Spooky Season spooky. There’s a New Orleans ghost story novel I want to write–and the fog will help set the mood for it, so it clearly needs to be set in November or late October.

I was very tired when I got home from work last night (still am a bit on the fatigued side this morning), and didn’t get anything done. After I did that ZOOM panel, I was wiped out entirely and repaired to my easy chair and searching for horror movies I want to watch before the end of the month. The panel–the fine line between horror and crime–was very interesting. I did think about it a lot yesterday during the day, and so I hope I didn’t seem as at sea as I felt. I don’t feel qualified to talk about horror other as a fan of the genre–I’m not as well read in the field as perhaps I should be, and I don’t write it very often–so I always have a bit of imposter syndrome when it comes to talking about horror. But I had a lovely time, and got just what I needed from it–more books to read. Heavy sigh.

I’m a little fatigued this morning, too. I have work duties to accomplish today, and errands to run later on. I also intend to start reading Elizabeth Hand’s Holokua Road this weekend, and I have some newsletter essays to get finished this weekend. I want to finish the ones I started about The Haunting of Hill House and Frendo Lives, and maybe work on some more. I also want to do some short story work over the course of the weekend.

My shoulder is also aching this morning, which isn’t a good thing at all. It never has ached like this since the surgery two years ago (has it really only been two years?), but it’s probably from being tired and then sleeping on it wrong, but I do think I need to get some serious rest this weekend. Driving back from Alabama on Sunday before having to work four days in the clinic (as opposed to the usual three) was kind of rough, but I think I handled it pretty well, even if I am a bit more tired this morning than I usually am on a Friday morning. But there’s naught to do but to get to it, is there? I also have to clean up this apartment, which is a disgusting mess…since I wasn’t here last week to do it. I can work on the house when I need a break from the day job duties.

Was anyone really surprised by the leaking of the Young Republican chats, and what these mind-numbingly ignorant bigots actually say and admit to when they think they won’t be held accountable? And again, we have the right ‘defending’ all of this as (wait for it) locker room talk by kids. The youngest was 24 and the oldest 41–that’s definitely old enough to know better, and tells me everything I need to know about the defenders. These are the people who wanted anyone who they deemed to be insufficiently mourning the bigoted weasel Charlie Kirk, but now want to excuse racism, homophobia, and being pro-Nazi? I’ve said for years this is what white people really think, and why they hate/oppose DEI and “political correctness”–but here’s the thing: if you know you’ll get “canceled” for being openly horrible, then you already are aware you’re horrible. You just don’t want to be punished for being horrible, and thus you need to believe everyone else is just as awful as you are, but won’t admit to it…and since everyone thinks that way, you shouldn’t be punished for your “honesty.”

Whatever helps you sleep at night, trash.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning for sure. Until there, auf weidersehen.

Gorgeous Max Parker of Boots.

Eldest Daughter

Thursday, and it’s my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah! I am very pleased with myself for somehow managing to make it through the entire week without any super-fatigue or brain fog–which means I am getting better and more healed. I ordered a pair of wired ear buds for my new phone, and am going to try to start going for walks regularly. I also want to start stretching a couple of times per week. It’ll make me feel better in the long run and less sore all of the time, and while it may not burn a lot of calories, it will burn some.

Plus, being stretched regularly will do wonders for the muscles themselves.

I’m very much dragging this morning, since it’s Thursday, and I have to do a ZOOM panel tonight after work. Not sure how that’s going to go, since I am sure I will be very tired this evening. I feel rested this morning, so it’s just a matter of the groggy feeling this morning. I slept deeply and well, and of course tomorrow morning I can sleep a bit later–Sparky permitting probably goes without saying. I had a quiet evening last night after I ran my errands on my way home. Tonight I am coming straight home, and will probably relax for a bit while doing some chores–the kitchen is a mess yet again–and I did try to do some chores last night, so I won’t have as much to straighten and clean up on the weekend. Paul was late getting home last night, so I just kind of sat in my chair catching up on the news (always a tense, fraught experience) until he did get home. I also watched this week’s Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, and once Paul was home we got caught up on The Morning Show, which we are really enjoying.

I will have to consult my to-do list at some point today, to see if I am getting anything done this week. This weekend will mostly be a resting and reading and cleaning weekend, I suspect. Having the LSU game on early Saturday will be helpful; sure, there are other games for the rest of the day but they aren’t anything I would be horribly upset that I didn’t watch, so I am hoping to get some reading done this weekend. I need to finish a couple of newsletter essays (reread of The Haunting of Hill House; Frendo Lives) and start looking at one about Boots. The end of the month is sneaking up on us, too, and then it will be NOVEMBER….and then it’s the end of the year. 2026 is a bit daunting, because that’s the year I turn sixty-five. Yikes, indeed!

I’ve also not watched anything scary this month, other than the first episode of the 1990 reboot of Dark Shadows. I was a little bummed that Scream, my favorite “scary movie,” isn’t available to stream for free anywhere, and I’ve seen the movie far too many times to justify paying to watch it again. I think Scream 2 is probably available? Maybe I will watch that tomorrow while I am doing quality assurance so I can write about my favorite slasher series. (I was also disappointed to see that the original Halloween isn’t available for free anywhere–the same rationale exists for not paying to see a movie I’ve seen multiple times; maybe I should look for A Nightmare on Elm Street1–it’s been years–or Prince of Darkness or The Omen, which could be fun, or even the original Carrie. IT’S SPOOKY SEASON GODDAMMIT!) The weather has become cooler, too–the breeze is chilly rather than warm; the sun is shining every day so it’s in the eighties, but the cool breeze plus lack of humidity is a marvelous reminder of how magical October weather can be here.

I also am doing an on-line ZOOM panel about supernatural mysteries, which should be fun; That Bitch Ford will also be on it.

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

The Nile River in upper Egypt
  1. I looked and it’s streaming on HBO! Huzzah! And Prince of Darkness is free on Prime. Looks like I know what I’ll be watching Sunday morning before Paul gets up! Huzzah! ↩︎

The Fate of Ophelia

Tuesday morning, and did you miss me yesterday? LOL, I”m sure no one noticed my blog absence for a single day, especially since the world and country are burning to the ground, with a new, fresh dictatorial outrage on the hourly. I decided when I got up that I was going to ignore everything and work on getting the book finished; I had to have to it to my editor by 4 pm CST and…I got it to her by three. It still needs an epilogue and some fine tuning, but I am choosing to focus on the fact that I turned the fucking book in at long last. I wrote about twenty-five thousand new words since Friday, too–something I wasn’t so sure I could manage anymore, but there you have it: Greg can still binge write. Once that was done, I repaired to my easy chair, read more of The Haunting of Hill House, and watched television with Paul for the rest of the evening before I went to bed. Sparky let me sleep in a bit this morning before turning into a manic, frantic alarm–SPARKY NEEDED FOOD–but it was a relief to get the book turned in, not in the least because that horrible little voice in my head that I hate was taunting me that my book-writing days were behind me. Not the case, hallelujah and pass the ammunition, after all. I am a bit worn down this morning, worn out from the binge-writing, no doubt, but…I am very very happy and content this morning.

It has rained every day since Friday and we are due for more today. My windows are covered in condensation this morning, and while it is light outside, it’s also gray and gloomy. This is excellent weather for reading and binge-writing, apparently; it also helped me since I was writing about a hurricane. Today is going to be an easy day for me. I am on vacation, but not leaving to meet Dad in Alabama until tomorrow in the late afternoon. I am going to get up early to drive the car to the dealership for an oil change and to see if they can do something about that thing dragging under the car (long story, but it doesn’t affect the car’s operation, but I just can’t get to it myself to take it off) before I drive up to Alabama in the afternoon. I am also going to run some errands today, and I need to get the house cleaned up and picked up today, so I am going to try to do that around my reading.

I also wrote a lot yesterday on the laptop. Don’t get excited; I was fighting with Sparky over my desk chair (he sleeps in it while I am not home; but it’s napping in my chair is part of his daily routine, and the only choice is between being distracted and clawed to death, or let him have the chair), and finally said fuck this and settled into my chair, put the keyboard and mouse on my lap desk, and mirrored the screen with the television. I have tried doing this before, but it’s never really worked well for me but desperation and deadlines apparently can make me adapt. Good to know for the future, right? And that also removes the danger of television distraction.

I can’t remember the last time I had a day off with nothing hanging over my head to write. It’s actually kind of lovely, to be honest.

After I hit send on the manuscript yesterday, I did think about what I want to do now that Scotty X is practically finished (edits and copy edits and proofing yet to come), and it’s kind of nice having a vacation and a short trip to follow turning in a manuscript. I don’t know if I am going to have the usual post-book malaise, but it’s probably likely. The malaise has been pretty consistent for the last year or so, I’d say. It’s been a rough decade for one Gregalicious, but…be grateful it wasn’t worse, because it could have been quite easily.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines, such as they are, for the day. I’ll be back tomorrow, but probably won’t be around much again until Monday, when I go back to the office.

You Belong with Me

Thursday morning and my last day in the office for the week–and until a week from Monday, at that! Huzzah! The dark is pressing up against my windows this morning, which means the time change is coming. I still get to come home from work in the daylight, though. I slept pretty decently last night, and my legs are tired this morning but they don’t ache, which is much, much better than earlier this week. The bed also felt warm and comfortable this morning. Sparky was a cuddle puddle, too, which wasn’t exactly motivating me to get up, you know? Ah, well.

I was very tired when I got home from work last night, but did my chores so the house isn’t a disaster area this morning. I worked on the book first, caught up on the news (which is truly grim every day), and then cleaned out the sink and ran the dishwasher. I also finished two loads of laundry and folded everything before I started dozing off in my chair. I started my reread of The Haunting of Hill House, and it always, on every reread, just blows me away. Shirley Jackson was such a master.

What a bizarre week this has been, and it’s only Thursday. It hasn’t been bizarre for me, per se, but more along the lines of “I’m not enjoying this final season of United States.” We have Senator Rafael Cruz insisting that we need to “stop attacking pedophiles” (for which I have rechristened him Tedophile), to the government shutting down, to the cowardice of the House Speaker in not swearing in a duly elected congressperson to protect the Epstein files from coming out, to whatever the fuck that was with the top military brass the other day. (Someone posted on social media that the generals were calling them “Fat Man and Little Boy” because they bombed so hard, which made me howl with laughter.)

I do love how President Canks1 seems to think destroying the major cities in this country–which also are the primary economic engines of the country–won’t bankrupt the nation, not to mention a president threatening US cities with military reprisals because they don’t like him is a kind of a terrifying new wrinkle (gee, if only someone could have said something about this before the election…), but not a surprise. MAGA has been running this country as a fascist state since at least 1/20/25, and anyone who doesn’t see that is too stupid to engage with other than a simple “hello” in passing. Is it any wonder everything is fraying and decaying, including everyone’s emotional and mental states? Prices certainly are out of control and getting worse every time I go to the grocery store or order groceries for delivery; how’s that cost of eggs no one on the Right seems to care about anymore? Fortunately I only use eggs for cooking (rarely), and while Paul loves them, he doesn’t eat them very often–thank the Lord. And who would have ever thought the so-called “answer” to illegal immigration was to make the country such a hellhole that no one would want to come here for opportunity anymore? I always thought illegal immigration was the ultimate compliment to our country–that whole “land of opportunity” thing I was brainwashed into believing when I was a kid. My generation was completely gaslighted into the dual mythology of American exceptionalism and white supremacy; talk about a miseducation! I’ve spent most of my adulthood unlearning those lessons.

But I do feel good this morning–I know I’ll be tired tonight, but the only chore left is folding that last load of laundry, so I can probably do a spot of writing before collapsing into my easy chair for the evening. I do hope Paul gets home early enough before I fall asleep/go to bed, so we can watch some shows and get caught up with each other. I think they’re finished moving the office to their new, temporary space.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and don’t let the news get to you too much; I need to follow my own advice, don’t I? See you tomorrow morning!

Take It Easy

Ah, here we are on a Tuesday morning, and I feel okay. I’m not feeling as achy as I have since Saturday, but there’s some tired still in my legs and the hips feel tired rather than painful, which is definitely a plus this morning. I wound up having to work in the clinic yesterday instead of having an Admin day, which is going to throw this week off to begin with and make me super-tired by the time the weekend rolls around again. Huzzah?

Last night I managed to work on the book despite feeling like I’d been run through the wringer after making some groceries on the way home. I collapsed into my chair once I was finished and caught up on the news before staggering up the stairs to go to bed. I did sleep really well last night, which is always a plus, and feel good, as I’ve already noted. My coffee is going down quite well, and I’m just a little bit hungry, so will be heating up my breakfast sandwich relatively soon. I don’t feel any mental fatigue today, which is always a plus. I think I am working alone in the clinic this morning, but could be wrong; I have been before, after all. I might even be able to sneak out early today, as we have no one booked for this afternoon. We’ll see how the day goes, won’t we? (That staycation just can’t come soon enough for me, you know.)

But overall I cannot complain about anything. The work on the book is going extremely well, and I am really looking forward to getting this done finally and out of my hair. I think I am going to spend October–since I’ll have edits and copy edits to deal with–writing short stories and essays. I am terribly behind on my newsletter, and maybe I can get one sent out this weekend since LSU has a bye-week so there’s not much urgency to watch games Saturday; I don’t even know who is playing. I’ll have the games on during the day (Alabama-Vanderbilt might be the winner of the afternoon time slot) but I want to read and write for the weekend and so will probably not pay much attention–unless it’s a really good game. Looks like Texas is playing Florida this weekend, too, and Florida State-Miami is the big night game of the day. I also kind of feel like I’m coming out from under all the gloom that’s been hanging over my head almost this entire decade, you know? When my mind isn’t foggy or tired, it’s sharp the way it used to be, even if the memory banks don’t work as quickly as they used to (if they work at all); I get the spinning wheel in my brain a lot when I try to remember things.

Yesterday was the two year anniversary of Sparky’s “gotcha” day!

In other exciting news, Governor Landry admitted to a national audience that he is a failure at governance and asked for the National Guard to be deployed in New Orleans and Baton Rouge. Hope they’re good at filling potholes, because you know damned well they won’t be going anywhere near the parts of the city that are riddled with crime. They’ll be stationed on Bourbon Street, and maybe Rampart and Canal as well. (I don’t think the Governor, who is all about his ambition and sucking up to the MAGA trash, is aware that he’s confessed to utter failure as a governor, while also admitting that a red state needs federal help because it can’t function properly is a hell of an admission to make; why would any other red state reelect their failed politicians after this? Because racism, that’s why.) Apparently, LSU is also going to be having a “Charlie Kirk Lecture Series.’

Which makes me not mind the loss to Mississippi this past weekend as much as I did.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and be grateful you’re not a higher-up in the military, letting you off the hook for the idiotic meeting in DC today.

Da Doo Ron Ron

Sunday, Sunday…can’t trust that day.

I probably should have saved this title for Monday, since the original lyrics open with “met her on a Monday and my heart stood still.” But it will always be a Shaun Cassidy tune to me, even though his version was a cover and reminds me of the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries series that aired in the late 1970s. Ah, to be in my teens again–only medicated properly this time. What a difference that could have made, right?

I left the apartment yesterday morning to walk over to the Marsten House on St. Charles, and I have to say–the experience was vastly superior to the one I had on Magazine, in the Garden District’s version of Walgreens. Including walking there and back, it took a sum total of fifteen minutes, so fuck you, Walgreens on Magazine; you will now be known as the Marsten House on Magazine, and the one a block from my house will simply be Walgreens again. Still not planning on doing much business with them going forward, but the experience was entirely pleasant. Until I got home, at any rate. Remember, I felt good yesterday morning? Well, within an hour of getting home I was running a slight fever and was completely exhausted. Everything aches from fatigue this morning, despite a good night’s sleep, and my alarm kitty let me sleep later than usual, too. (He tried to get me up at the normal time, but when I didn’t? He just turned into a purring kitty cuddle puddle, which made it even harder to get up. My mind was woozy all day, too, so I didn’t get much done other than sitting in my easy chair with football games on, a couple of things around the house (dishes and a load of laundry), and read some more of The Hunting Wives. Paul was out packing up his office all day and didn’t get home until after nine (he’ll be doing the same today, too). Most of the football games were disappointing–LSU lost and played terribly; Auburn lost to A&M; and Arkansas lost to Notre Dame. Georgia-Alabama was a really good game, as was Mississippi State-Tennessee, and Tulane trounced Tulsa. But I wasn’t really vested in any of the games–the fatigue and brain fog thing again–so the LSU loss didn’t really hit as hard as it usually does. So, thanks, COVID vaccine?

And do not @me regarding the vaccine reaction. I work in public health, so let me stop you before you start: I will block you for anti-vaxxer stupidity, and fuck you, while we are at it; fuck you with a razor-blade encrusted dildo. Jenny McCarthy should burn in hell for all eternity for her ignorance and idiocy–anyone who listens to that stupid bitch for medical advice is even worse than she is– period, and fuck you. I reacted strongly to the vaccine because I am immunocompromised because of the colitis, idiots.

I will never understand the mentality that it’s preferable to have a dead child as opposed to an autistic one.

My hips and legs ache painfully. It’s horrible. But my coffee is delicious, and so was my coffee cake. I’m about to make some toast, and maybe a bowl of cereal and get another cup. I have some emails I want to answer this morning–I’ve been ignoring my inbox for quite some time–and of course, there are some finishing touches the apartment also needs to have done. I don’t know what my energy is going to be like throughout the rest of the day, but I hold out hope for a very nice, productive day.

Also? I really miss the time when I didn’t dread checking the news.

I did think a lot yesterday about the book and writing, even if I couldn’t focus enough to write. (The brain fog is absolutely terrifying, for the record. And the memory losses are even worse.) I know what the book needs in order to be finished, and it’s just a matter of energy and brain function. I also watched some videos for research for other projects (and for the book, too), and stumbled across a marvelous documentary about the Manchac Swamp and the so-called curse of Aunt Julia Brown. As you may or may not remember, the “curse” also involves the complete destruction of the isolated swamp town, Frenier, where she lived, by the Hurricane of 1915. (It also wiped out Manila Village and the Filipino settlements on the shores of Barataria Bay and Lake Borgne.) I’ve always wanted to write about the hurricane and Julia Brown–as well as the Filipino immigrant settlements, and it occurred to me after watching this documentary (which also talked about the destruction of the cypress forests in the swamp, which has also severely damaged the swamp ecosystem), and as we all know, I’ve been thinking about writing an environmental thriller set down here. Why not about the Manchac Swamp and some murders?

Why not, indeed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday filled with love and laughter and relaxation, and I will be back on the morrow.

Crumbling old bridge in rural Louisiana

Julie Do You Love Me

One can never go wrong with old Bobby Sherman hits, can one? 🙂

Well, it’s Saturday morning, the apartment looks a lot better, and I am not feeling tired this morning, as opposed to yesterday morning. I had a good night’s sleep before my alarm kitty went off this morning–he let me sleep a while longer–and now I am awake, swilling coffee, and ready to get to work today. I have to get my COVID shot today (more on that story later), so am hoping for no adverse reactions so I can get some work done today. Paul is working with his trainer and then going by his office–they have to move out by the end of the month (remember the building collapse last year?), and so he is packing and throwing things away. There are football games all day today, too–including LSU-Mississippi and some other terrific match-ups, so the siren song of my easy chair and the television is going to be difficult to resist, but I do have work to do today, that I have to get done if I am going to be finished with this book on time.

Several weeks ago, I talked to my doctor about the COVID shot (I am not sixty-five yet, but I am immunocompromised), at which point I was informed that in Louisiana you now need a prescription for it and if you aren’t 65 or older you have to be at “risk”. Well, everyone’s at risk, since it spreads so easily from person to person, thank you again, MAGA garbage human beings who are seriously too stupid to breathe if it weren’t involuntary. Your doctor has to write a prescription for it, send it to the pharmacy, and you have to know which version of the shot they have. So first, you have to check with said pharmacy to see which brand they offer, and let your doctor know so he can write the scrip for the correct version. So, you can’t just can’t get a prescription–if it’s written for the wrong version they won’t give you either. Idiotic, right? This is what comes from living in a MAGA majority state filled with temporarily embarrassed millionaires. After jumping through these hoops, it turned out that CVS, my pharmacy of choice, wasn’t offering it in New Orleans at all…which meant biting the bullet and getting it at a Walgreens. I hate Walgreens. I’ve been boycotting Walgreens for the most part (other than the convenience of having one a short block away, so I might go get milk or bread from there in a pinch)and don’t spend money there if at all possible. Since the convenient one is the one I used to call the Marsten House on St. Charles, I decided to have it called into the one in the Garden District, by Breaux Mart on Magazine. When I went, they made me wait almost an hour–I had another appointment and had to leave. After leaving, about half an hour later I got a notice that my appointment was cancelled–so they expected me to sit there for an hour and half? And were rude about it when I finally asked? Yeah, I walked out and gave them one-star on Yelp. I also was more than happy to fill out the “customer satisfaction survey” they sent me because I had checked in for my appointment. I refuse to go back to that one, but still need the vaccine so had my doctor call it into the Marsten House on St. Charles. I will report back, for sure.

Paul didn’t get home until after I went to bed, and I imagine I won’t see an awful lot of him until they are finished moving into their new, temporary office space. DISLIKE.

A lovely review of Double Crossing Van Dine by Oline Cogdill in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel was published this week:

Double Crossing Van Dine, edited by Donna Andrews, Greg Herren and Art Taylor; introduction by Catriona McPherson; Crippen & Landru; 310 pages; $22

The Golden Age of Detective Fiction that launched the classic genre novel is considered to be from the 1920s to 1930s. But contemporary readers know that a second Golden Age began in the mid-1980s when the novels became more emotionally involving along with the introduction of detectives from myriad backgrounds and cultures. The genre continues to evolve, seeing several golden ages in the past decades.Going out on a limb here, many authors from the ’20s and ’30s haven’t survived the test of time, aside from a few, such as Agatha Christie. And going out on another limb here, S.S. Van Dine, the focus of this short story anthology, probably is among those only recognized by readers steeped in the history of mystery fiction.Van Dine, whose real name was Willard Huntington Wright, was an American art critic, literary editor, biographer and author who wrote the series about detective Philo Vance.

Each story begins describing one of Van Dine’s rules, then crushing it. Fort Lauderdale author Elaine Viets’ “Sweet Poison,” about two young women struggling in New York’s Lower East Side during 1921, forgets the rule that “all clues must be publicly stated,” as they deal with the unexpected death of one’s “Wall Street sugar daddy.”Barb Goffman puts aside the “no love interest” rule in “Baby Love” as a fledgling-but-broke private detective tries to launch his career so he and his very loving wife can afford a baby. Co-editor Greg Herren stifles the “no supernatural” rule with “The Spirit Tree,” in which the solution to a murder comes from beyond. The “only one detective rule” doesn’t work for Delia Pitts’ “Better Together,” which finds two heads are better than one.Boca Raton author Alan Orloff’s “The Society Set” takes a butler who has several jobs for his persnickety employer on a journey of a jewelry heist that actually embraces Van Dine’s version of a “fascinating crime.” Leigh Perry has a work-around for the “no secret societies” ban in “Guilted Lily,” in which a tight-knit group of grifters seek a score.Tom Mead dismisses the rule that servants should never be the culprits in “The Tell-Tale Thumb.” Some people, Mead writes, see only the uniform, not the person who hides in plain sight.The majority of the authors in “Double Crossing Van Dine” have either won or been nominated for awards. A handy brief bio of each of the authors may inspire readers to seek out more of their stories.

Pretty cool!

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