Tag: Ted Lasso

Dear Jessie

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, with no health fair to drop in for tomorrow morning. I can just sleep late and can relax with no worries about getting to the office. Our schedule is full today, for the first time since pre-pandemic, so it’s going to be a day where I probably won’t have time to breathe much.

Paul worked late last night writing a grant, so I did go ahead and watch this week’s Ted Lasso without him, and yes, I will definitely be happy to watch it again. I usually watch each episode twice anyway, and what a delight this episode was. I know there’s some grumbling out there about this season, and I will admit so far this season hasn’t been quite up to the high standard the first two seasons set–it is still quite excellent–but this week’s episode? Chef’s kiss, perfection, no notes. (If you haven’t already seen it, stop reading right now and skip to the next paragraph.) The sequence where Jamie teaches Roy to ride a bike, set to “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head”? (People who’ve never seen Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid might miss the reference, but it made me smile.) Absolute perfection. It never ceases to astonish me that Jamie Tartt has become one of my absolute favorite characters on the show; his journey from self-absorbed narcissist to a kind, caring and considerate person has been one of the best character arcs I’ve ever seen done on television. Then add in Trent and Colin’s scenes, where Trent comes out to him and tells him he already knows about Colin? That conversation was filmed in front of the Homomonument in Amsterdam that commemorates the queer people killed in the Holocaust or those who were later prosecuted and persecuted for the crime of being themselves, which made it all the more touching and moving. Colin’s whole thing about two separate lives, wanting to just be himself, being able to kiss his fella after a win like the other guys kiss their girls, and live his life and not be a spokesperson? Oh, darling Colin, that’s really what we all want, and it broke my heart just a little as I realized, once again, that no matter how far we’ve come, we still haven’t made it to home base. It was so heartfelt and real, I got tears in my eyes. And then Higgins and Will at the jazz club; Rebecca and her boat man; and of course the vast silliness of the team trying to decide what to do for their free night in Amsterdam, while Ted shrooms? Absolute perfection, from the very first scene to the last. It warmed my soul and when the closing credits rolled, I felt satisfied and happy. I am really going to miss this show when it comes to an end. Thank you to the writers, because that scene with Trent and Colin easily could have become maudlin and melodramatic; instead, it was honest and real and a little heartbreaking. The writers of the episode deserve an Emmy for that scene alone.

I did get some work done on the book last night. I was tired when I got home–I guess I should be getting used to that by now; getting up early means flagging energy later in the day, which does make sense–but I slogged through some of it, anyway. I feel pretty good and lively this morning, though; but we have a full schedule which means I will be exhausted by the end of the day. Paul’s grant gets turned in today, so he should be home this evening, so I’ll get to revisit this magical episode of Ted Lasso before we dive in and get caught up on both Yellowjackets and The Mandalorian. I also managed to put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher and then reloaded it; so that will need to be unloaded tonight and reloaded again; we’ve gone through a lot of dishes this week for some reason. Go figure. Tomorrow is a work-at-home day, which will be lovely. I keep hoping that someday I’ll get caught up on the housework, but it never seems to happen. I really need to focus on revising the manuscript this weekend, too–it’s horrifying how far behind on it I actually am. I really wanted to be lazy this weekend, but that’s clearly not going to be an option. I need to get up every morning, do some cleaning and organizing, and then open up the manuscript and dive in headfirst. It sometimes feels like I’ve been working on this book for-fucking-ever; and I long for the day when it is finished, once and for all. It’s also supposed to rain tomorrow, which should make for a very cozy at home day.

I guess I still feel a little off-balance, more than anything else. I don’t really feel like I’ve been able to find my center in a very long time, and as such, my life has felt off-kilter for about three or four years now. I remember joking when the pandemic first shut down the world in March 2020 that “LSU had a perfect football season and broke the world,” but in a very real sense, that’s kind of what happened–they weren’t connected, simply sequential–and even that Carnival in 2020 felt wrong somehow; people got killed at the parades by falling under floats; the Hard Rock Hotel construction site had collapsed, closing down several streets around and including Canal; and of course, racism and homophobia have been running rampant during these times. It’s been a very tiring period, frankly, and getting older during it hasn’t helped matters much. So many changes, so many adjustments, so much exhaustion. I do sometimes think I am getting too old for this life. Slings and arrows, slings and arrows, slings and arrows.

However, the irony that the United Kingdom and the United States, the two countries that led the world in the war against fascism in the 1940’s, are currently sliding headfirst into fascism needs to be noted regularly. As I say to Paul all the time when the latest insanity breaking news flashing across our phones and TV screens, “I’m glad I’m old and don’t have any children to worry about.”

Anyway, I am going to bring this to a close now. Not quite as fiery as yesterday’s post, of course–I was in quite the mood when I wrote yesterday’s, but it still stands as truth–but that isn’t going to happen every day anyway. I’m so tired of being outraged and aggravated, you know?

And I do sometimes wonder how different my life would be had I not been born into a homophobic society and culture.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines, Will check in with you again tomorrow, Constant Reader. Have a lovely Thursday!

The Look of Love

Saturday morning. I was incorrect about the department meeting; it’s later this month (when I’ll be in Bethesda, actually) so I went to the health fair, was told I should increase my exercise (duh, since I do none now) and other than that, I appear to be perfectly healthy–or at least per my vitals and blood work, at any rate.

How fortunate they weren’t testing for mental stability, eh?

But it was a lovely day to work-at-home. It was still cold overnight, but the high yesterday hovered in the high seventies, topping out at a solid, spring-like eighty degrees at one point in the afternoon, which was also nice. I filed and cleaned when taking breaks from work; laundered the bed linens, finished off the dishes, and straightened the rugs as well as sweeping and vacuuming. We got caught up on Yellowjackets and The Mandalorian, and while I was waiting for Paul to come home from the gym, I rewatched this week’s Ted Lasso with the captions on so I could catch things I missed on first viewing (something I do with every episode, as I did with Schitt’s Creek), and I have to say I enjoyed it a lot more on the second viewing than I did on the first. I am very curious to see where the show is going and how it’s going to end–but unlike everyone else, I’ve decided to not theorize about it or jump to conclusions predicated on my interpretation of what I’ve seen; instead I just want to enjoy the ride and trust the writers to do their jobs, which they’ve done superbly on every step of the journey thus far.

I slept really well last night and feel very rested this morning. I have to get the mail today and I should make a small grocery run while I am out, but ugh, how I hate the grocery store lately. It saps my strength and will and makes me want to curl up with Scooter and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore out there. There’s not much we really need, to be completely honest; but I need to know what I want to make for dinner this weekend and what I am going to be taking for lunch next week. Decisions, decisions–but it feels good to be rested and clear-headed this morning. I don’t know that I feel particularly inspired this morning, but that’s okay. Once I finish this, I am taking my coffee and repairing to my easy chair to read Scorched Grace, which I hope to finish this weekend.

Anne Perry, a very successful author, died this week. She had an unfortunate past, having committed the crime that Peter Jackson’s film Beautiful Creatures was based on (also known as the film that gave us Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey) as a teenager, and served her time. I didn’t know Ms. Perry, nor have I ever read any of her work. This wasn’t out of any sense of oh I can’t possible be supportive of her! She killed someone! but more because they weren’t the kind of stories I particularly enjoy. I did ride in an elevator with her once at a Bouchercon, and she was polite, reservedly friendly (understandable), and seemed kind. I’ve been thinking lately that I’d like to read more historical crime fiction, particularly around the first World War (looking at you, Charles Todd!), but that TBR stack is already way too deep and tall and wide. However, Ms. Perry’s death has, of course, brought all that about her teenaged crime back into the news and onto social media to be rehashed and discussed and, well, frankly beaten into the ground. Ms. Perry’s situation also is key to a broader discussion about criminal justice, and our criminal justice system and how it operates. (Ms. Perry’s crime was committed in Australia, I believe.) I see a lot of people talking about how they don’t believe in redemption, and how they could never bring themselves to support someone who’d done something so terrible, etc. etc. etc. And it’s very true; we as a society tend to look askance at people who’ve served time in prison–and tend to judge them harshly.

How can you believe in a criminal justice system if you don’t believe in the potential of human redemption? I’m not an expert on any of this stuff, let me make that very clear at this point. I am merely examining this from a layman’s perspective and coming from a logical place to try to dissect all of this with nuance and rationality; what can I say, I took Geometry in high school and was on the debate team. I don’t think you can believe in our criminal justice system if you don’t believe in redemption, which seems kind of Old Testament to me; once a criminal always a criminal is what that boils down to, and if there is never even the slightest possibility that someone can be redeemed, what is the point of jailing them? Punishment? That seems kind of draconian and not very humanist, frankly. The odds are stacked against convicts as it is when they are released; as most of us will always keep an eye at them in askance, just waiting for them to commit another crime to prove that they belong in jail and should never be released. I understand the sex-offender registry–women and children are vulnerable and should be aware someone who may be a predator is living in their area now–but at the same time, it feels….punitive. Sex crimes are horrible, to be sure, but if they are so horrible and the offender is statistically going to commit the same kind of crime again–why let them out in the first place? Getting one of those flyers back when we lived on Camp Street is what inspired me to write my short story “Neighborhood Alert,” which is one of my favorite stories that I’ve done, and tried to use the story to illustrate the potential consequences that can come from such alerts.

I also think it’s interesting that people are so unforgiving in real life while they will read–and root for–characters like Tom Ripley or Hannibal Lector or Dexter. But that’s fiction, they say in response, to which I say so you would be repulsed by them if they were real, but you root for them in fiction? Make it make sense to me.

Ultimately, she did her time for her crime, and then spent the rest of her life writing crime novels successfully. Enough people either didn’t know about her past, or didn’t care enough to make them give up the pleasure of reading her work. As I said, I’ve not read her work but it’s not out of any sense of moral outrage or superiority, but because they aren’t the kind of books I ordinarily read–although now I kind of want to read one, to see how good she was. If you don’t want to read her, or didn’t, because of her past that’s your choice and your decision. But please don’t think for one moment you have the right to tell me what I can or cannot read, or what I can or cannot enjoy–because then you are no better than right-wingers trying to ban books and close libraries, and that is something I will not, do not, and cannot, support on any level.

I also kind of believe that redemption is possible, but not unless there is atonement and a desire to change. If I didn’t believe that, well, I don’t know how I could live with myself. This is a question I explored in my nasty little story “This Thing of Darkness”–can you atone for something terrible you did as a teenager? Especially if you are never punished for the crime itself? How do you live with yourself with such a thing on your conscience? (This is also the theme for one of my favorite books of all times, Thomas Thompson’s Celebrity)

And on that note, I am making another cup of coffee and heading to the chair with Margot Douaily. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here again tomorrow, as always.

Who’s that Girl?

Wednesday and it’s Pay the Bills day again! Woo-hoo!

I didn’t sleep all that great Monday night, so felt a little tired all day. Mentally I was fine, but it was another one of those oh you’re body feels tired and wants to curl up and go back to sleep–which was what I’d avoided all day Monday only to have the night be restless for me. It’s okay, of course; there are always worse things that could have happened (like not sleeping at all) but it wasn’t exactly terribly motivating, you know? I got all my day job work caught up, which was great, but had a ZOOM meeting last night at six pm after I got home, so didn’t get a whole lot done other than that. But I did get all my tax stuff turned over to my accountant–we may need to file an extension, which is fine; this is all my fault for blanking on my income taxes–which was a lovely and much needed thing.

That was a very close call, frankly.

I slept much better last night. I feel very rested this morning, both physically and mentally, so here’s hoping for high productivity day, shall we? I stopped on my way home last night to pick up more ink for my printer–it’s weird how I go through the other colors much faster than black; I have two black cartridges I’ve not used yet from having to replace the colored ink; yesterday I discovered I can simply buy the colored ink separately without a black cartridge–which means it happens more frequently than i would have thought–that black and the other colors never run out at the same time. I suppose you can also buy them individually; I just always bought the more expensive all colors pack. Live and learn, things are getting a bit easier, wouldn’t you say?

I have all the background materials prepared so tonight will begin the official revision of the final draft of the new Scotty book. I have to admit, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about ending the Scotty series. What? I know, I know, I figured I’d be writing about Scotty until the day I die. But I am beginning to think the series is a bit played out; what else is there for him to do, explore, realize about himself and the world? I don’t know. The writing has been very difficult–not just for Scotty–ever since the pandemic started. Not that it’s over by any means–looks like there’s yet another new strain out there, at least I saw some news reports yesterday about it, at any rate. But I think and hope that once I get this one finished and out of my hair, going back to writing something new from scratch will be a lot more fun than writing has been since 2020.

We watched Yellowjackets last night–I really love Melanie Lynskey–and this week’s episode of Ted Lasso, which feels like it’s getting back to what it really is after an interesting start to this final season. I do love the show, just as I did Schitt’s Creek, but I’m not completely obsessed by it, the way some people on Twitter appear to be; they seem to have watched every episode shot by shot, frame by frame, and then indexed it all so they can refer to it with each new episode that drops? I mean, it’s cool–I used to be obsessed with television shows (soaps in particular) but maybe not to this extent? I think streaming makes these kinds of obsessions easier than it used to be; you used to have to record everything on a videotape, which would gradually wear out with repeated watchings and before that–well, I don’t know what people used to do before the Internet other than watched shows as they aired and took voluminous notes? I suspect people didn’t used to get as obsessed with television shows and films the way they do now because it wasn’t possible–although I suppose Star Trek was the first show to really get people obsessed. Not an expert on television history, I’m afraid, nor of its impact and influence on culture and our society as a whole.

It really is amazing how much better I feel this morning. It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for you, isn’t it? I’m hoping I’m not tired when I run my errands after work tonight–I need to make some groceries and get the mail, then come home and do some chores (finishing the laundry, emptying the dishwasher in order to reload it again–before I can sit down and work on the book some more and then we need to find something new to watch; but I have found a bunch of shows that look interesting–crime stories, natch–so we can start giving those a try. I also want to prune down the books a bit more, and see if I can’t get some of this junk out of the living room. I’ve always preferred open space in my home, to give the illusion of it being a larger space, so of course the living room is completely cluttered and has stuff shoved into every crack, crevice, and space where something can possibly go, and I don’t like that feeling, frankly. (It’s also why I worry about moving into a bigger space–more space to fill with clutter and things.)

Heavy heaving sigh.

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

Into the Groove

And you can dance.

For inspiration.

And we made it to Wednesday once again, Constant Reader. Huzzah!!!! I’m a bit groggy this morning, despite having woken at four, five and then again at six, which was a good thing as I had apparently forgotten to switch on the alarm when I tumbled into bed last evening.

We finished watching The Night Agent last night, which was bonkers/crazy, with gaping holes in the plot and a lot of “really?” being asked as the main characters did or said something completely insane. But it was entertaining, mindlessly, and that’s kind of nice as well. After we finished that we watched this week’s Ted Lasso, which was a bridge episode of a kind; I’ll have to watch again. But the redemption arc I was pretty certain was coming this season was glimpsed last night; which I was also pleased with. And then of course it was off to bed so I could get up this morning, and so well trained at it now that I woke up at six without the alarm going off. Not sure how I feel about automatically getting up at six without an alarm, but it was a plus this morning as I now won’t be late to work.

I am in a post-book malaise again, which I need to be snapping the fuck out of as soon as possible as I have to get this Scotty book finished. I don’t have time for malaise! I’d intended to reread the manuscript last night, but of course Scooter was needy when I got home and once I surrendered to the “I need a lap bed” whines, I was in the chair for the night and it was all over. I know what needs to be done to this manuscript, of course–which is a step in the right direction–but I am terrified about how much work it’s actually going to be. I don’t know why I psych myself out of writing and editing like this all the time, but I’m going to chalk it up to the malaise and be done with it all. I’ve also not been up for reading, either, which is not helping with the TBR pile in the least. I did finally put my hands on a book I’ve been trying to lay my hands on for months now, and when I finally spotted it and pulled it out of the bookcase, I decided to move it to the top of the pile and I am bringing it to work with me to read at my lunch hour. Maybe if I start reading for pleasure, it will motivate me to write for pleasure again…and the truth is, the overhaul of this book is going to be an incredible pleasure, if a bit on the nightmare side as well. I had already outlined the first half; I need to do the second half (after rereading the first half) and I also need to make a character list and timeline.

And then I can get back to Chlorine at long last. Woo-hoo!

I was also thinking last night I want to spend some more time with short stories this year. I got a lovely email forwarded to me (sent to Paul originally) from a new writer whom I greatly admire and whose debut novel is at the top of the pile to get to (if I ever get out of this fucking malaise), who’d attended my reading session and Saints & Sinners and wanted to know how “This Town” ended. I sent her a copy and she was very kind in her response; she loved it. I have always been proud of “This Town,” and is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written; I really felt like I got Callie’s voice down perfectly. It’s also one of the few stories I’ve written that I can reread and be satisfied, rather than making mental corrections and chastising myself for missing something in the process of writing it (this happens a lot for me, alas); but I’ve also noticed over the last few years that I am getting better at writing the short stories; and have been getting lovely compliments from people on them. I should really write more of them but the primary problem here is that there are so few markets (a submission from September is still pending) to sell them to that the time spent on them doesn’t ever seem to be worth it, other from the sense of satisfaction, which often is enough in and of itself. I think when I finish the revision of this Scotty book, I am going to spend a month on Chlorine to get the first draft finished, and then spend a month working on short stories, and then spend another month getting my pro wrestling noir’s first draft finished. And after that, who knows? My suburban serial killer in the 70’s book? Perhaps a new series? A short story collection? Finishing one of the novellas? The future is rife with possibilities.

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

Lucky Star

Thursday morning and all is well in the Lost Apartment…at least so far.

It was cold here yesterday; not that bad, really, but after the humidity and the over-eighty degree temperatures we’ve had over the weekend, the sudden twenty or so degree drop was a shock to the system, let me tell you. I was cold all day at the office (it’s always freezing at the office, no matter what) and so had to wear a hat most of the day. One of the drawbacks to being hair-free on my scalp is you feel the cold a lot more on your head. But it more than makes up for that in cost savings in hair products and haircuts, as well as the time saved not needing to wash and dry it.

And that’s my TED talk on why bald is best.

It’s cold again this morning, but the high for the day is 78, so I am assuming this cold spell is ending.

I did manage to get some work done on the book yesterday, but I also spent a lot of the day remembering and still processing this week’s episode of Ted Lasso. It really is such a phenomenally well-written show, and I went down all kinds of Internet fan wormholes–the fans are quite devoted–about theories and predictions and so forth for the rest of the season. In fact, after I finishing writing yesterday I rewatched it; that’s how much I enjoyed it, and I wanted to catch things I may not have during the first viewing (I used to watch each episode of Schitt’s Creek twice as well; what can I say, I am obsessive), which I did. And it’s weird, even when you know what happens, you enjoy just as much, if not more, than you did the first time. It really is a remarkably well done show, on every level; but the cast is absolutely perfect. We also caught up on The Mandalorian and started the new season of Yellowjackets before diving into the new season of Outer Banks, which isn’t…grabbing me the way it used to? We’ll keep watching, but we aren’t as addicted as we used to be; I’m not sure why that is. But the show is starting to pick up some; the first few episodes weren’t as gripping or entertaining as the previous seasons. I will report back, as I imagine we’ll probably finish it off this weekend sometime.

We’ve not been super busy this week at work, which has been enormously helpful with my reentry into reality. I am all caught up on my day job duties, which is a lovely thing. I am getting back to work on the book after the interruption of the weekend, and while it hasn’t been as smooth a reentry as returning to the office was, it’s getting there. A strong push tonight and over the weekend and I can get this all turned in, if I’m lucky, no later than Monday; but it might take a bit longer. I need to get this one finished so I can turn around and get the Scotty done, and I also have another manuscript to edit. I want to start reading some more, as well. If all goes well, by the time I am home from Malice I should be all freed up to get back to work on some other things, and I am really looking forward to that. Part of my writing impatience during the process of revising drafts is because I want to get back to work on the next thing, and I also think my familiarity with my own work is part of the reason I am so critical of it, if that makes sense? I had that insight yesterday; of course by the time the book comes out I am so heartily sick of it and familiar with it that it seems trite and bad; I’ve been through it so many times I’ve lost the ability to be able to judge it fairly and impartially. Familiarity does breed contempt, whoever said that was absolutely one thousand percent correct. The trick is fooling your brain into forgetting that familiarity, and I have yet to succeed in that effort.

It’s also kind of nice not having to spend so much of my time dealing with emails, frankly.

And of course, there’s always the disaster area that is the house. It’s been nice having Paul home this week–I am going to have to get used to having him home in the evenings, and it’s also going to take me a while to get used to potentially making dinner at night again; it’s literally been months since I’ve had to make dinner regularly. I still need to figure out what I need to get at the grocery store, and we need to start eating healthier for both of our sakes. I have also last track of the month; I was actually thinking this morning that there was still another week to get through before April rolls around but April is actually this weekend, isn’t it? Heavy sigh. I mean, the first quarter of the year has already passed–but then again, New Year’s feels like it was about a thousand years ago. It’s been quite a 2023 for me thus far, but hey–I’m still here. The jury’s still out on whether or not that is a good thing…

But it’s been a decent week thus far, if a bit off–as weeks after events inevitably are, but I didn’t seem to resent giving up the authorly life for reality quite as much this time as I usually do, and I do think that’s a good thing. Maybe I am finally starting to meld the different compartments of my life into one rather than continuing to keep them segregated from each other and never the twain shall meet. Is it better to have all aspects of my life integrated into one? It’s so weird, because I started living different lives so very young in my life that it’s really all I know, and having such a clear demarcation line before between the “who I really am” life and “who I have to pretend to be to live in the world” life kind of carried over and spilled over into the rest of my life after I came out and tried to make my personal life all one world…but I somehow kept having different worlds. Day job versus writing; New Orleans non-writing friends versus writing friends; friends in New Orleans versus friends outside of New Orleans, and so on and so on and so on, that it’s kind of become my way of navigating my overall life, and I am not entirely sure now–at sixty-one going on sixty-two–how unhealthy that actually might be. It’s always worked for me, but just because something works doesn’t make it healthy, you know?

Tomorrow I get to sleep late and work at home, which is always a lovely and quite marvelous thing. I am really going to miss my work-at-home Fridays, when they are eventually and gradually eliminated (as we know they inevitably must be). I slept well again last night and yet again didn’t really want to get up this morning, but I don’t necessarily feel tired or even physically asleep (which isn’t a pleasant feeling, frankly) which I am taking as a win. I have been released from Twitter jail, but the whole experience didn’t exactly leave me with a desire to return there, to be honest. It really is a cesspool, and I am much quicker to anger–the subconscious grief–than I usually am (and I’ve always had a low boiling point to begin with), so avoiding that hellscape is probably also more healthy for me mentally.I really need to figure out how to curate it better so I don’t find myself getting angry (it isn’t irrational) at the monsters and trolls who love to hang out there and be the assholes they don’t have the courage to be in person. Even though I could do nothing but doomscroll yesterday. I did check out some trending hashtags about Ted Lasso, and I am very pleased to see that the Collin Hughes is closeted story-line enraged the homophobes, who are now accusing it of being “woke” and aren’t going to watch anymore. Rather than enraging me with the why can’t they ever just keep their mouths fucking shut and let us enjoy something instead I got smug and happy because homophobes shouldn’t be able to watch and love the joy that is Ted Lasso. You don’t get to be an asshole and find joy in the magic of this show, and if it’s taken you three seasons to figure out the show is “woke” (however the hell the rage-monsters define that now), you’re kind of stupid. The message of the show is kindness and helping others to be their best selves, really, and those connections are the most important. Where precisely does bigotry and hatred fit into that message, precisely? So, stop watching. It’ll still air and will always be available to stream, and oh, one last thing: The CEO of Apple is a gay man. Ted Lasso is an Apple TV show. Did you really think Apple would air a homophobic show? You really are too fucking stupid to live…and you shouldn’t be allowed to breed.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a happy March 30th, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Borderline

Wednesday and Pay the Bills Day again. Huzzah? Huzzah, I suppose. Dark is pushing against my windows again this morning, and yet again I didn’t want to leave my bed this morning. I’m not sure what that’s about, probably lingering tiredness from the weekend, most likely. But I had a good day yesterday. I got some work on the book done and it wasn’t like pulling teeth in the least, which is always a good sign, and I think the book is taking shape rather well. Huzzah!

Paul was home last night, which was wonderful and something I’ve missed, frankly. He even went to the gym for the first time in months! I’d forgotten how nice it was to have Paul and Scooter lying on the couch cuddling while we watched television (Scooter always sleeps in my lap for a little bit so I don’t feel neglected before moving to the couch; he even gives me a guilty look, like he’s saying “sorry but Daddy is more comfy” before he decamps)–and we watched Ted Lasso. I really love this show so much! It’s amazing how it’s funny and charming at the same time; and how much I’ve genuinely come to care for the characters; it’s end is going to be as heartbreaking as when Schitt’s Creek ended. If someone would have told me that one of my favorite characters in Season 3 would be Jamie “did you just call me pre-Madonna?” Tartt, I would have laughed my ass off. Like Schitt’s Creek, I think the reason this show resonates so deeply with its fanbase is because of the character growth, and no one (except Rupert) is an actual asshole. And (spoiler!) yes, I did think Colin might be gay before we actually found out for sure last night, and what an excellent episode it was–handling beautifully the issue of what it’s like to be gay and on a professional sports team in a mostly homophobic world. Anyone who’s ever played a sport and was closeted can absolutely relate to the moment when Isaac said something homophobic in the locker room and despite yourself, you involuntarily flinch slightly, shrivel a little bit, and then just take a deep breath and shake it off. It also made me even more excited to see the rest of the season and what they have in store for us.

Needless to say, I love this show and while I definitely hate the thought of it ending, I also want to see how it ends and watch it all again. (I may have to watch last night’s again, in case I missed things. I actually do generally watch every episode twice, so I can catch the things I overlooked while laughing or didn’t pay as much attention to the first time around. Obsessive? Just a bit. Some things never change, you know?)

Hilariously, I am now banned from posting on Twitter for up to a week for calling out a phony right-winger because I committed “hateful conduct” while J. K. Rowling is out there happily and gleefully being a homophobic TERF piece of shit multiple times a day. But at the same time, I’m kind of glad; Twitter is a cesspool and of course, since the needle-dicked South African racist homophobe emerald mine heir who thinks he’s a business genius took over. I need to figure out how to keep Twitter a space that makes me happy; I have a lot of friends who are on Twitter that I enjoy interacting with there, and ironically, the reason I even responded to the snowflake on the Wisconsin Supreme Court in the first place is because her un-American tweets somehow showed up on the hashtag thread for Ted Lasso I was reading this morning. But the fact that a Supreme Court justice at the state level’s intern went crying to Twitter about my replies about her lack of understanding of how the Constitution and the government work says everything I need to know about their hypocrisy and lies as well as exposing how much worse Twitter is now; people I’ve reported for straight up homophobia and transphobia do not “violate” their rules. They also put an adult content warning on my blog yesterday because it had a picture of the statue of David in it. Yes, Twitter agrees with Florida that Michelangelo’s David is pornographic; and that’s really all we need to know about Twitter, isn’t it?

I also don’t like that being there makes me angry. If I had a dollar for every response I started writing only to delete…yeah, Twitter is very unpleasant. A dark place that speaks to the darker impulses that lurk within all of us.

Today feels colder than it’s been in a while; probably because it rained yesterday. Yup, it’s only 58 degrees today, which is why it was so cold in the apartment (the air was on yesterday rather than the heat) this morning and why I really didn’t want to get out of bed, either. I am going to head straight home from work today, too; no errands that need to be run but certainly there are any number of chores that need doing. I just wish Scooter wouldn’t demand my lap the entire time I am writing so when I am finished and acquiesce, him purring and sleeping on me always puts me into a relaxed don’t want to get up and do anything mood, which is why the Lost Apartment continues to be a disgusting mess all day every day, which is seriously aggravating.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day. Constant Reader!

Holiday

Don’t I wish? Paul and I periodically talk about taking an actual vacation that is a vacation for both of us (he sometimes comes to crime conferences with me as a vacation for him), but the problem is always time. I have to use my vacation time from work to go to these conferences, not to mention visit my family since they live over seven hundred miles away, which makes saving some time for an actual, I don’t know, vacation at a beach resort or something hard for me to do. I think the last actual vacation-for-both-of-us that we took was Italy all those years ago. And after this weekend I am thinking that in the future I am going to have to take time off from work for Saints & Sinners the way I used to, so that I can enjoy it a lot more, the way I used to be able to do. We must have had someone feed Skittle for us back in the day? And Scooter? Or did we board them? I honestly don’t remember. Boarding Scooter would probably be the easiest because then I wouldn’t have to commute at all; the easiest of course would be to park the car at the hotel but I am NOT paying for Hotel Monteleone parking, which is INSANELY expensive. It would cost over a hundred dollars to park at the hotel, at least.

And yeah, I don’t want to pay that when I’d only use the car sporadically anyway.

Sigh. The trials and tribulations of living in New Orleans when there’s a literary event going on in the city.

I was very tired and dragging yesterday; I was definitely operating on Accessory and not recharging. I somehow made it through my work day (I was amazed, what can I say?) and got my work done, cleaned out my email inbox, etc. etc. etc. It’s always so humdrum and sad when you go back to your regular life after getting to be an AUTHOR for the entire weekend, you know? Paul was home, so we actually got to spend the evening together for the first time in I don’t know how long; we watched Ted Lasso and The Mandalorian, which was nice. I just love Ted Lasso, and who would have thought way back in season one that Jamie Tartt would become one of the more likable characters on the show? I hate that it’s the last season, but at the same time I love that they aren’t deviating from the original plan for the show’s story arc despite it’s success, and sometimes it’s best to walk away when you’re on top. There was a wonderful scene for Brett Goldstein in episode 2 that also kind of reflected that mentality; where he ponders whether his decision, when he realized that he was getting older and starting to slow down, to leave Chelsea before he just became an old geezer and was dropped; leaving on his own terms rather than being asked–which is kind of what Ted Lasso as a show is doing.

As I was so tired and dragging when I got home last night, I didn’t get any work on the book done. I intend to make up for that tonight. I slept great last night–I feel rested which is lovely–and feel like I can get back on track today after yesterday’s transitional day. There’s always a bit of decompression after a weekend of being an author, and this year was a bit interesting. I’ve become a bit more reflective, and since turning sixty, as you well know, I’ve started looking back over my life. Paul said last night that since it was the twentieth Saints and Sinners, he’d been doing it for a third of his life–which made me realize I’ve been an author for a third of mine. When you look at it in those kinds of terms its a bit more staggering, isn’t it? My first book came out twenty-one years ago; my first published fiction came out twenty-three years ago. I’ve been doing this for a very long time, haven’t I? I guess it’s about time that I stopped being self-deprecating and started appreciating what I’ve accomplished? (Author friends have been trying to get me to change that about myself for years now; it’s still very hard for me to do what I consider ‘bragging’, because as a child it was hammered into my head that you only praised other people and it was up to other people to praise you; but I am also beginning to realize that isn’t very emotionally healthy, and it’s incredibly self-defeating, which is the last thing I need more of in my life.)

It’s also raining again this morning; while it would have been a pain in the ass for it to have rained over the weekend I kind of wish it had–that would have taken care of the humidity, so I wouldn’t have been a disgusting sweat rag most of the time. The rain of course makes me want to curl back up under a blanket with a book and let Scooter sleep in my lap, but alas, I must go into the office and do my job so I can get paid so I can continue to be a functioning member of American society. Tonight on the way home from work I have to swing uptown to get the mail and make groceries–I didn’t get around the refrigerator last night, so I’ll have to do that tonight–and then I want to work on my book for a while and then do some more catch-up cleaning. I need to make a new to-do list, and I also need to work on the living room, which has been out of control for quite some time now, and the books are a complete and utter disaster. I also want to get started reading Scorched Grace tonight, too. I also have to sort of get used to the idea of having Paul home in the evenings again–it’s not like he won’t be upstairs working on his computer, but it’ll be nice having him around and maybe Scooter will stop feeling so forlorn and abandoned. (The amount of guilt a cat can make you feel is really amazing.)

And on that note, I am going to grab my umbrella and head out into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

Shut Up and Drive

Thursday morning and all is quiet and still in the Lost Apartment. Again, I didn’t want to get up this morning, but forced myself out–the constant whining from a hungry cat for the assist, seriously; he hasn’t shut up since I got up even though I have fed him–but that’s okay. I am taking tomorrow off because of Saints and Sinners, so being tired today is okay. I’m always tired by Thursday. I wasn’t that tired when I got home from work yesterday, so I was able to get some work done, which felt great–I also realized that after today I will be over halfway finished, with an end to the revisions in sight. It’s coming along very well and I’m quite pleased with it, and very happy I seem to have been able to get back into the groove after a very difficult period. I stopped by the post office to get the mail yesterday–some things I needed and ordered had arrived–and then came home to work for a glorious couple of hours before I started doing chores around here. I also watched the second episode of Ted Lasso, which I am still loving; I’ve seen some dissatisfaction on social media about the new (final) season; I have no quibbles or concerns with it so far. The show’s heart is still there, the character relationships are just as strong if not even more poignant, and I think they are taking us on a wonderful ride this final season. I love this show so much I don’t even wonder what’s going to happen or even speculate about it; I am more than content to simply enjoy the ride for what it is without looking ahead. (I don’t want to look ahead because I don’t want it to end.)

Tonight when I get off work I get to come home, do some more work on the book, and relax. Tomorrow I’ll move into the hotel for the night–I’m going to come home Saturday night to keep Scooter company, and then will commute back on Sunday before coming home in the evening. I also am probably going to try to do some organizing and cleaning before spending some quality time with Scooter in the easy chair. I also need to figure out what I am going to read from at the reading series on Saturday; but I can think about that tomorrow morning after I’ve slept in and feel a bit more rested than I do this morning. I slept pretty well last night; I pretty much slept through the entire night but I do remember waking up around one thirty in the morning before going back to sleep. But my coffee is jumpstarting my brain and body as I type this, and I am sure I shall make it through this day without a problem. I will probably just come straight home from work tonight; I can run errands tomorrow and get things done around the house before I head down to the hotel.

I’m looking forward to this weekend primarily to see people I’ve not seen in a hot minute. Some terrific crime writers are coming in for the weekend–Jean Redmann, Michael Nava, Cheryl Head, John Copenhaver, Marco Carocari, Shawn Cosby, and Kelly J. Ford, to name a few–and so am looking forward to seeing my crime fiction family as well as the other S&S regulars. I didn’t really do much last year because I was revising A Streetcar Named Murder, but this year I’ve managed to not be as far behind as I usually am at this time of year. (Make no mistake, though–I have a lot of catching up to do before May 1, believe you me.) Maybe when I get home tonight, after working, I can start reading something new. I haven’t decided on my next read yet, which is terrible since I finished reading my last book Sunday, and haven’t started anything new. I am almost finished with my years-long reading of Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, which has kind of turned into an Afghan War of sorts around the Lost Apartment; something that’s been going on forever with no end in sight. I think I am going to read something by David McCullough as my next major-length non-fiction read; either the Johnstown Flood or the Panama Canal one; I’ve not been able to decide but I think I have about another hundred pages or so of the Caro to go anyway so there’s plenty of time for me to decide.

I can’t believe March is almost over already, either.

I need to get my taxes done. Next weekend, for sure.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday. Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

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!

Only Girl in the World

I saw that John Jakes died yesterday–or they announced he had passed yesterday–which was kind of jolting; primarily because he’d come across my radar again lately. I don’t remember who or how, but I was looking at something or looking up something and a quote from him about reviews and critics and his place in American literature, or he was asked about the literary stars of the day or something (these memory lapses are so aggravating) but I loved what his response was: I don’t remember exactly the comparison, but he compared books to wine: his were an inexpensive wine you could pick up at a grocery store, satisfying but nothing special, while others were the really rare and fine vintages you went down into the cellar to retrieve and had to blow dust off the bottle. (It may have been meats; I can’t remember exactly but the wine analogy seemed more correct and apt, frankly.) I appreciated that, because I spent a lot of my teens and early twenties reading Jakes’ American history novels. They were fun to read but not great, and I wound up reading the entire eight volume Kent Family Chronicles as well as the North and South trilogy (and I think in some weird way the train of thought that led me to the Jakes quote was remembering Kirstie Alley and Patrick Swayze in the mini-series of North and South, because I was also thinking about the Civil War because I was watching Civil War documentaries on Youtube, which led me to abolitionists and a meme I saw reading I don’t argue with people John Brown would have shot and you see how that all goes; the weird and twisted slipperiness of my mind. I hadn’t thought about Jakes in years; and now he’s popped up twice within a couple of weeks. (He was ninety, so had a long and full and vastly successful life. Those books were all bestsellers and the first three of the Kent books were filmed for television; I think the original plan was to film them all but that ended after the third made for television movie.)

I think there were eight books in the Kent Family series; the original plan was to follow the family through American history, but the book series ended in the 1880’s, I think; it ended before the twentieth century–which was smart. How would you cover the world wars and Vietnam? Civil rights? These were very pro-Americana books, too; they were all part of the big Bicentennial Celebration of 1976–which was a very big deal at the time, if you weren’t born yet, and the years leading up to 7/4/76 were a lot of patriotic overkill, frankly. Every business and company had some sort of Bicentennial celebration tie-in, starting in about 1974, I think, so by the time the actual Bicentennial rolled around many of us were already sick and tired of hearing about it. We had just moved to Kansas that summer, and we still only could get one channel–CBS out of Kansas City. (Hard to believe there was a time when you could live somewhere and only get one channel, but it used to be very commonplace, and there were only three networks anyway.) The primary problem, for me, with the Kent series was how plausible is it that every member of this family is a friend or acquaintance of every famous person in our history?

I slept well again last night, which is marvelous. I did laundry and put the dishes away after work, and made a grocery run, picked up a prescription, and got the mail. I was a busy Gregalicious yesterday, and I worked some more on the book as well. I feel a lot better about the book–it’s not nearly as terrible as I had feared; I really do need to work on not hating my work or at least going overboard as far as their condition, frankly. I am looking forward to making some more good progress this weekend as well; now that I am feeling more myself again (I feel good this morning, too) I think I am going to be able to get all of this finished and revised and reworked and handled and improved. This is the part of writing a book that I enjoy; the drudgery is the first draft, and the polishing and improving is the most satisfying, because you see and can feel it taking shape.

I did break down and watch the first episode of the new season of Ted Lasso without Paul last night; it was marvelous, as expected, and just such a delightful show and characters. I decided it was okay to go ahead and watch because I figured I wouldn’t mind a second watch when the Festivals are over. It just might well be my favorite comedy series of all time; definitely up there with Schitt’s Creek and Cheers for sure. Today I also am heading in to see the doctor this afternoon about my toe, which still hurts to bend and twinges when I walk, but I am not limping. Maybe it’s a waste of the doctor’s time, but you never know, and once you’re past sixty you kind of have to take any of these sorts of things that happen seriously. (I have a tendency to ignore it and hope it goes away on its own.) It’s been nearly a month since it all started; I think it was exactly four weeks ago today that it started hurting and initially swelled, but between Carnival and Mom, I didn’t really have a chance to get in, and as soon as I was able to know for sure I could make an appointment and keep it, I did–and this was the first one available. Fingers crossed it isn’t anything more serious than arthritis or (sigh) gout.

It’s amazing what a difference to my overall mood getting back on the writing horse makes, seriously. Now that I am working on the manuscript again, I’m sleeping better and feel more settled and like myself again, which is lovely–I was beginning to wonder. I wasn’t quite as tired yesterday when I left the office, and I have to say, it’s been marvelous feeling rested and being able to work again. Much as I whine and complain about writing–usually, it’s not the writing itself I complain about, but rather deadline stress more than anything else–I do love it, I do love doing it, and it really makes me happy. I recently realized that while my primary identity is author, another identity (and one I’ve held much longer than author) is reader. I have always been, first and foremost, a reader. I love to read, and wish I had more time to do so; hence the not worrying about ever being bored if and when I do get to the point of retirement–there will always be books to read, stories to write, and something to clean around the house. I am only bored if and when I choose to be; and there’s also always some movie I haven’t seen I can stream, too. I’m a homebody, and the older I get the more true that becomes. I am putting off a Costco run until after the Festivals, even though we’re getting low on things and out of others; there’s no point in doing much restocking of the kitchen since Paul will be moving down to the hotel on Wednesday and not coming home until either Sunday or Monday. I need to figure out what I am doing over the weekend myself. I think I have something Saturday morning, a reading that afternoon, and then a panel on Sunday? I don’t know, I’d have to check I suppose, and at some point I should get that all put into my phone calendar.

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