Sad, Sad Day

I already didn't feel great over the last several days (major sinus headache). Then yesterday, I learned Dolly Parton died, and my heart broke.

I admired this lady. Dolly was a brilliant songwriter, a talented singer, and a woman who practiced what she preached.

The first time I remember seeing her was fifty-six years ago on the Porter Wagoner Show. The last time I watched one of her performances was the series finale of Grace and Frankie, ironically, she played an angel. This weekend will be a Dolly weekend. Starting with this movie.

Damn, I'm going to miss her!

Summer's Unofficially Here! And a Little Summer Terror...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the Summer Solstice is three and a half weeks away, but people in the U.S. considered Memorial Day weekend the start of our summer. The weather has warmed up to the point where we no longer need jackets during the day in most of the states.

Ironically, it's the first truly insane holiday for the Ohio State Troopers since New Year's Eve. I can hear my readers outside of the U.S. asking, "Why?"

It's because people who drink in the U.S. often drive while intoxicated. If that drunk person is lucky, they make it home without killing some living creature. However, they can't trust luck. Eventually, someone will die.

I've got too many stories of drunk drivers. Two of my cousins were hit by drunk driver. Both ended up with spinal and vertebrae injuries they still suffer with decades later. My brother was hit by a drunk driver who was racing another driver. Somehow, his only injuries were bruises from the seatbelt. The kid riding with his drunk brother wasn't so lucky. No seatbelt on and he went right through the windshield.

Another cousin was a police officer in D.C. She's been to far too many accident scenes where innocent people have been disabled or died because of drunk drivers.

Then there were my own parents. With three teenagers in the house, I understand they wanted and needed some privacy. However, their bright idea was to get a 12-pack of Busch and drive through the back country roads while drinking. In their cases, they were lucky.

But it didn't alleviate mine and my siblings' worry. I doubt if Mom and Dad ever realized the three of us would lay awake in our beds until we heard Dad's pickup pull into our drive. And there were a few nights when my brother and sister would enter my room, and we'd sit there discussing whether we needed to call the sheriff to look for them. Like I said, our parents got lucky. We'd eventually hear the truck pull into the drive, and my siblings would scramble back to their rooms.

However, the Ohio State Patrol announced that the 2026 Memorial Day holiday weekend had the fewest fatalities in years. Most of it was due to the doubling or tripling of gas prices depending on where you live. But it means someone, somewhere, isn't crying their eyes out over the loss of a loved one to a drunk driving accident.

I'm not against drinking. I just ask that you please do it at home or have a designated driver when you go out and drink. And make sure you wear your seatbelts. Be safe this summer! Because you all have someone sitting at home in the dark, waiting for your safe return.

Release Day - A Barrel of Vintner

Finally, A Barrel of Vintner is out in the world! At least, the ebook is.

I spent the afternoon at Starbucks working on Death Goddess Fighting. It helps to be working on the middle of the next book so I'm not fretting about sales. Or lack thereof.

The world economy is all over the place right now because someone with a tiny mushroom is trying to prove its not a tiny mushroom. And to the world, I sincerely apologize that my fellow citizens would chose a convicted felon and rapist because he's white rather than an accomplished woman with a proven track record because she's black.

Anyway, I have started on A Spout of Wild, but I'm putting it aside for the next two weeks in the hope I can finish the second volume of The Books of Apep before the end of the month.

Let's hope Mother Nature cooperates. We've already had thunderstorms and tornadoes in Northwest Ohio nearly every day this week.

Life and Death

Last week, DH had the week off. We did a lot of work around the house. We also did a few fun things. As a result, I wasn't doing much writing.

This week, between writing sessions, I'm prepping for next month's Kickstarter, or Witchstarter since it's  in October. I jokingly said that this one should go more smoothly that my first one since all of mine and DH's parents are dead now.

So, Murphy laughed hysterically and decided to do something about that.

Three people I'm close to who have long-term health issues got suddenly worse.

I'm so angry right now. Angry at the health system because doctors, PAs, nurse practitioner, etc., aren't given the time they need to deal with patients. Angry that people at insurance companies think they have the medical knowledge and experience to make healthcare calls. Angry that health care is for profit. Angry that the president is trying to make sure no one has any insurance.

I could go on, but you get the drift. Here's the thing. You can do everything the health care professional tells you to do, and things still don't get better. But the patient will get the blame.

For example, I get a lot of crap from docs about my diabetes. First off, I'm on more expensive medications because I can't tolerate Metformin, one of the cheapest medicines on the market. I swear, if there's a VERY RARE side effect to the med, that's what will happen to me. In the case of Metformin, I end up with explosive vomiting and diarrhea within three days, to the point I start suffering from severe dehydration. Others that I can tolerate were taken off the market for their side effects, in other people even though I never exhibited those particular side effects.

So, yeah, I'm venting right now. Because in all three cases, things were misdiagnosed. And they probably wouldn't have been if medical professionals weren't turned into money making machines.

Shit can happen, but this is shit that could have been avoided.

Tax Time and Sadness

We've started getting our W-2s and 1099s here at Chez Harden. Unfortunately, we also needed to find a CPA here in Ohio. Ed, our long-time CPA in Houston, sold his practice last summer when his Stage 4 cancer stopped responding to treatment. He passed away the week before Christmas.

Ed was our CPA for nearly thirty years. He's been with DH and me through house-buying, children (both human and furbabies), and our various businesses. Most of all, he was a cheerleader for me when I started my publishing company in 2011. He always believed I would be successful when lots of other people called me a fool.

The best thing about Ed was he didn't have the dry, dull manner of a lot of other CPAs I've met. He was genuinely enthusiastic about the tax code and helping his clients save every penny they could from Uncle Sam.

The last time I spoke to Ed was over the phone a year before his passing. He truly believed that one of my series would be picked up for a movie deal or a television series. And he was still enthusiastic despite his illness and the rough sound of his voice.

Rest in peace, Ed. I like to imagine you on a beach, relaxing, but I know you'll be helping the angels with their own accounting problems.

A Tough Day

I've reached the age where losses happen on a regular basis. DH and I lost all four parents within a five-year span. Friends and relatives are passing, no longer from accidents, but from health issues. And that's not counting those who died during the pandemic.

DH and I met with an estate planning attorney on Wednesday. It was a tough discussion as we planned through worse case scenarios. Murphy hasn't deigned to cut us a break since we met. I sincerely doubt he will do so now.

And, as if to prove his point, I've gotten bad news from people I care about today. There's nothing I can do to change their situation. Nothing I can really do to help except to listen.

It's not death itself that I fear. It's the potential pain leading up to the final moment. I don't wish that pain on anyone. Not my worst enemy. Not even Tribblehead.

If my gods or Murphy or whoever runs this cockamamie universe will grant me one wish, please let me go fast and relatively painlessly. I'd like to go out to mow or stand up to head to dinner and keel over, where I'm gone before my body hits the ground. That's how a few of my grandparents and great-grandparents died.

And a bit of me wishes for less pain for the people I've heard from today. No pain is impossible at this point, but a little less would help these people to manage their affairs before the final moment.

I also hope everyone reading had a bit of peace, too.

Bitchy Sisters-In-Law, a Long Weekend, and a Comedy Show

It's been insanely busy around Chez Harden lately. DH has been working the day job full time, doing the timekeeping for the high school lacrosse teams (who just finished their season) and our semi-pro football team the Flag City Phantoms (who started their season a month ago), and trying to wrap up his parents' estate despite things still popping out of the woodwork.

I figured it was time for a break this coming weekend. DH planned to take Friday off to deal with a certain investment company, which is making him jump through a bunch of hoops to release the money due to the estate. He contacted the attorney for advice on how to deal with this particular entity, and she gave him suggestions of what to try first before wasting money on her fees to go medieval on the investment company's ass.

Only for DH to get texts from his two oldest sisters that essentially accused him of mismanaging the estate assets. This despite the fact  he updates all the sisters about what's happening on a regular basis. This despite the fact that in Ohio, the probate judge must approve everything before ANY disbursements can be made to the heirs.

The irony of all this is (1) I used to be a probate and estate planning attorney and (2) my own parents died during the same five-year period as DH's. It took fifteen months to wrap up my parents' estate, and they didn't have half the assets my in-laws' had for DH to deal with.

Even better, one of the sisters wants DH to do something illegal with the estate's money.

*facepalm*

I am so glad we have tickets to see comedian/actor Michael Rapaport this weekend with some friends. We might even squeeze the new comedy IF is the theaters. Anything to cheer up my man.

Yep, we definitely need a break from life.

Kicking Along and Feeling Groovy

Despite a lingering cough, I'm finally recovered enough to write close to my normal speed. Because of the isolation the world experienced during the pandemic, the regular old cold viruses are undergoing their own weird mutations. And this one has been a major pain, even without all my other health problems being taken into account.

On the plus side, I'm almost done with Death in Double Mocha. I don't normally take this long to write a single novel. After this book and Queer Eye for the Super Guy, I'm taking a publishing break.

It doesn't mean I won't be writing, but I need to finish unpacking. We've been in this house for over two years. It's time to put things away and hang posters and pictures. Or even get rid of some stuff we no longer need.

After dealing with our packrat parents and their crammed homes, I certainly don't want to leave a ton of belongings for our son to deal with when I pass.

A Reminder

Since I've been getting messages:

- No, Death in Double Mocha has not been published yet.

- No, Kickstarter rewards for the Death, Tiger Sharks, and Oakfield Parents Association levels have not been mailed yet.

- No, Invasion! has not been published yet.

I'm still dealing with paperwork from my mother's estate. People do not realize how much documentation is generated when someone dies in the United States. My brother, who's the estate administrator, was shocked when I told him it would probably take six months to deal with everything, and our mother didn't have a whole lot to begin with.

The universe tossed one last grenade on the flaming pile of poo that was 2022 when GK's car was stolen on Christmas morning. Again, there's a crap-ton of paperwork involved, even though the San Antonio PD recovered his car.

I keep telling myself, at least I'm not in Ukraine right now.  But I totally understand the Ukraine soldier's response to the Russian demand for surrender.

2022 can go fuck itself, too. I won't surrender either!

Slowly Getting Back to Normal

I spent Saturday doing a variety of errands. Like picking up most of my October ornaments from the local Hallmark. The SNW Enterprise is on back order, but it should arrive before Christmas. Since Darling Husband went with me, I bought breakfast and coffee at Starbucks for us.

Princess Bella, DH, and I munched on the breakfast sandwiches while watching a couple of episodes of Macgyver (1985). We'd originally planned to install the medicine cabinets in the master bathroom, but we haven't had a Saturday off in a month. So, we went to the Spirit Halloween store instead.

I purchased a door mat and a journal. DH finally got the fog machine he's wanted. We didn't find any inflatables to join the Skeleton Dragon, but there's always next year.

When we got home, DH watched On Patrol on REELZ (what used to be Live PD on A&E) while I stuffed envelopes with stickers, bookmarks, and magnets for the last rounds of rewards to go out from the Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse Kickstarter. We topped off the evening by ordering pizza.

Yesterday, I wrote while DH watched football. It wasn't a whole lot. I'm still rotating among several manuscripts because I can't last more than a paragraph on Death in Double Mocha. Best I can do is try to finish it by the end of the month.

But this year's crap means I'll be more prepared the next time I do a Kickstarter. There's lessons in every life event.

Murphy Is the One True God!

I'm trying to finish writing Death in Double Mocha, but my mother died yesterday morning. The timing stresses me out, but hers is not the first death this year. And maybe the Soccer Mom series is cursed. Darling Husband's father passed right before Pestilence in Pumpkin Spice dropped.

I'm beginning to think I need to move to a state where recreational marijuana is legal.

The Queen is Dead

I'm not a British citizen, but yesterday's announcement of Queen Elizabeth II's death felt like a kick in the gut. It seemed like she'd live forever. Just like the Queen Mum. But alas, all things pass, and she was in her beloved Balmoral Castle when she left this plain of existence.

With that smile, she reminds me of my paternal grandmother. Both ladies were classy, but didn't take anyone's crap, and they had a wicked sense of humor.

The Queen took her duties seriously. She was an ambulance driver during World War II. She spoke to her nation in times of crisis.

And she scared the piss out of the King of Saudi Arabia when she drove him cross-country over the Balmoral Castle estate in her Range Rover.

My sympathies go out to her family and the United Kingdom in their time of loss.

Long live the Queen!

Perfection

If you haven't seen Netflix's Sandman series, I strongly recommend it. It's been a while since something I anticipated delivered on every level.

The series stayed true to the feeling and themes of the comic book series. Some alterations were necessary because of the new media. Some alterations were because Neil Gaiman's grown as a storyteller. Others were because--let's face it, the show would have looked ridiculous with thought balloons.

Some things simply needed to be updated. People forget the first issue of Vertigo's Sandman was published thirty-five years ago.

Other were changed because they fit the narrative.

The performances were sublime all around. I literally cannot pick a single standout because they were all done so excellently.

This promotional postcard of Death is framed and hung in my old office in Houston. I'm looking forward to the day I  unbox it, and It hangs in my office once again.

Until that day, may you all have sweet dreams...

I Can't Wait for Next Week!

This is the series I've been waiting for, and the casting of Death is perfect!

Lives Reduced to Piles of Paperwork

No movies this weekend. I wrote while DH and his sisters chipped away at the gargantuan pile of belongings in their parents' house. The stuff Nana and Papa valued were not things that can be sold or kept forever.

There were everyone's grade cards and pictures. DH's stats from when he played Little League Baseball fifty years ago. Heck, not even their pastor wanted the church accounting records from the '60's and '70's.

Piles of books, ranging from FIL's Korean War army manual to the romantic suspenses I purchased and had signed by the author for MIL. Journals. Boxes of personal memorabilia belonging to MIL's mother. Boxes of costume jewelry hidden in weird places.

DH and the siblings keep asking me what I think or would I like something. I've only laid claim to FIL's industrial-level paper shredder and his scanner for copies in case DH and I get audited by the IRS.

Because I'm not leaving a similar mess of disintegrating paper, dead bugs, and dust for GK when I croak.

Catching Up Amid the Grief

Except it's not truly grief for me. My father-in-law isn't suffering anymore. No matter your belief system, I'm simply glad his body no longer tortures him. We buried the empty shell that housed his spirit or soul or whatever you want to call it. But yeah, I'm happy he's no longer in pain.

On the other hand, I ended up with a nasty UTI the night after his funeral, just like I did when my mother-in-law passed away five years ago. The stress of dealing with everything got to me despite my best efforts. But thank Sekhmet for antibiotics. The PA at the urgent care went straight for the sulfa drugs.

I slept for a good chunk of Saturday and Sunday. And last night, I did some writing, which strangely always makes me feel better when I actually have the bandwidth to do it.

There's more stories to tell, and since I'm still on this tiny ball floating through space, I will continue to do so.

For as long as this body lasts.

Sadness on a Beautiful Spring Day

Darling Husband and his sisters made the hard decision last Thursday to move their father to hospice. He passed away Saturday evening. I'm not surprised. None of us were. And yet, when you get the call, it's a shock to the system.

My father-in-law was a good man. Crotchety at times, yet he had a wicked sense of humor. He loved his wife, his children, his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren fiercely.

The lilacs at his house are just starting to bloom, and their perfume is a much better ode to him than I could ever write.

The Second Civil War

Last century, I took an oath three times to uphold the United States Constitution: when I was sworn in as an attorney in Texas, when I was sworn in as an attorney in Ohio, and when I was sworn in to the U.S. Federal Court system.

Wednesday afternoon, it really did feel like last century.

I got out of bed and did a few miscellaneous admin tasks, like writing a post for this blog. An hour and a half later, armed terrorists broke into the U.S. Capitol in an attempted coup of our duly elected government.

Make no mistake. That's exactly what it was. Five people died, including a police officer who passed away from injuries inflicted by these terrorists four hours before I started typing this.

What happened yesterday is no different that what Al Qaeda and the Taliban do--rule through fear and threats.

This is not what America is about. I'm not saying we're perfect. Goddess knows, there's a ton of crap we can improve on. But killing people and threatening others is not the way.

And despite these terrorists attempts to subvert our government, the U.S. flag still flies over the Capitol. Congress did its job by counting the electoral votes, and they confirmed the duly elected president.

Invariably, there will be someone who thinks an entertainer, like myself, shouldn't talk about politics. But this is no longer political. This is about the soul of our country and who we want to be.

Personally, I want to vote and speak my mind, rather than live in a Third-world banana republic were thugs make the decisions. What do you want?

NOTE: I'll leave comments on for now, but the first one that supports terrorism will be deleted, and comments section will be shut down.

Coronavirus Pandemic Day 145 - Death

"You get what anybody gets. You get a lifetime." - Death, Neil Gaiman

Over 157,000 dead in the U.S. alone. The number staggers the mind. And we're back up to over 1,000 dying per day.

Our county followed the Ohio governor's guidelines and shut down on March 16th. We stayed at a stable 39 cases and 1 death for six weeks.

But the re-opening on May 1 triggered more cases. With the 4th of July parties, cases exploded. Hancock County is at 320 cases and 2 deaths.

What's even more terrible is at a time when Americans really need to be working together to stop the spread of this horrible disease, we are actively working to infect each other. At a time when we need solid national leadership, we have federal officials at each others throats.

Believe me, I get how much staying at home sucks. With my health issues, I've been trapped at home far longer than a lot of you. And I regularly talk with friends, who are as trapped at home as I am. Yes, it's awful. Yes, it's boring. But if my 88-year-old father-in-law can handle not leaving his apartment for five freaking months, then so can I.

And you can, too.

But if you do have to go out, wash your hands and use your masks. Your family's and friends' lives may depend on it.

I'm Moving....Sort Of

One of my major projects for 2019 was moving all of my books under the same publishing umbrella. As in, the company would own the publishing accounts for the various retailers rather than have them under my personal e-mail addresses.

Why? Why the hell do all that work when I'm so behind in my writing?

Because my cancer diagnosis clashed with the common sense former probate attorney. The one who told her clients to be prepared before the worst can happen.

Now that GK is legally an adult, he could, in theory, take over the publishing aspect. In fact, we've had a couple of talks already about passive income and copyright.

GK: So let's say you live to eighty-four like Nana. The extra seventy years on a copyright doesn't kick in until then.

Me: Yep.

GK: I'd be over a hundred before it was done!

Me: Yep.

GK (with a gleam in his eye): How many books do you think you'll have published by the time you die?

Yeah, he's already doing the income calculations in his head. LOL

The point is I want to make the transition for DH and GK as seamless as possible should I die sooner rather than later. They know where my account list and passwords are. I just want to make it easier for them, and for me.

I'd planned on starting the process of consolidation during the fall dead time in publishing, but a badly behaving model forced me to start the process now.

That's not necessarily a bad time. I just need to pay close attention to my writing production and juggle the tasks as efficiently as I can.