An Entry, Mundane.

War is still raging in Ukraine, I fear the West's sanctions and condemnations have only stiffened Putin's resolve and have given him now way out. Although, this entire exercise was sheer madness from the very beginning. There was no reason to invade Ukraine to begin with and now that he's done so, I fear for the Ukrainian people that Putin is committed to see it done to it's bitter and bloody end. 

I finally visited Sally, my 'step-mother' (although I don't really think of her that way), after her hip-replacement surgery. She's in great spirits and seems to be healing nicely. She's currently on oxygen and she had some post-op blistering on her right foot but she can walk around for short bursts without a cane and I was happy to see her recovering so quickly. I may take her reclining chair that she's using right now to sleep in, she can't sleep in the bed yet. Got to see my father as well, he's doing well. Everytime I go he offers me something odd, this time it was a CD player. I declined. But as he often jokes, I'm going to have to go through all of their stuff anyway when they croak (his words). And I invariably look around after he says that and shudder at the thought of sorting through their collection of... things.
As Scarlett O'Hara says, 'I'll think about it tomorrow.'

I am concerned, though, about an incident they both told me about separately. Evidently, some young kids have been harassing them, banging on the house, throwing their basketball on their roof, making mischief. In one incident, the police were called. My father is hot headed, even now in his 80's, and although he's spry he's not a young man. I may have to talk to some AC cop friends to keep an eye on their house. 

The weather has been rollercoasting, each day is completely different, sometimes very warm, sometimes bitterly cold. As much as I love my winter, I wish Mother Nature would make up her mind and stick to one season. Right now it's in the twenties, in two days it will be in the seventies. That's ridiculous. 

I'm reading an article in The New Yorker about an author who's genre is autofiction, a mix of autobiography and fiction. I remember about a decade or so ago that more than a few authors were taken to task for 'embellishing' their autobiographical novels. The truth will out, so to speak. This new-to-me genre is intriguing to me, since I naturally embellish many stories I tell about my past. I'm gay. And a former drag queen. And a bartender. It's my nature. I'm thinking that it's nice cheat to writing that book I've always contemplated but have yet to do. This way, I can say it's autofiction and make half of it up! Win/Win. 

Today finds me hitting the gym again (third time this week!) and taking care of Charity's cats. I also HAVE to go to the bank so I can pay the rent/bills. I can not wait to find a second job, although the weekends have been very good at the Distillery, one bad Saturday could doom me. 

Miss Patti sent over a packet of photos from the early nineties, mostly involving my drag shows, specifically Mortimer's Cafe. That was a time in my life where I never was seen out of drag, especially in the clubs. I've posted a few of them on Facebook and Instagram. The memory lane they took me on was nice to travel down.