E-mails from the edge

I was searching my back links the other day (something most people would not admit to unless they play Dungeons and Dragons), when I saw a link to my website on Kill Zone. This is only a primo website moderated by a group of the elite mystery and thriller writers. Continue reading

Lost in Wal-Mart

I just wanted a lousy fly swatter, not a scavenger hunt. My backup plan was to find a friendly customer service representative. Apparently, everyone in the tri-state area wearing a blue vest was out taking a smoke break behind the dumpsters. Are fly swatters a thing of the past? Mine broke while I was herding a water moccasin off the back patio. When facing an angry pit viper you do not want faulty equipment! He was armed with venomous fangs, while I was wielding a plastic handle. I think he had the advantage. Continue reading

An obscenely expensive foot in the door

Amway, Fuller Brush, Avon, Encyclopedia Brittanica—all were the door-to-door salespeople of my youth. None was more feared than the vacuum cleaner salesman, who would literally stick his foot in your door, rush in, and cheerfully dump dirt on your carpet. I truly thought they were a thing of the past. Continue reading

Adventures in underwear

There’s not enough lycra in the world to get me across the threshold of a Fredericks of Hollywood store. In a few weeks. I’ll be turning 54 so I would have to be out of my mind to wear fishnet stockings or a slit up my skirt, yet my friend and consultant is anxious to “floozy me up.” Just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you should. Continue reading

I’ll take hollow victories for $200, Alex

I sometimes entertain my insecurities by watching Jeopardy. Even when Alex Trebec isn’t speaking French (flawlessly), it sounds like he’s on another astral plane from the rest of us plebian idiots. When the contestants miss a question, he’ll say, “Oh no, it’s kinnikinnick.” Then he’ll repeat the answer with a look that says, “You are a disappointment to your mother.” Continue reading

Tart Cookies

Cookies are my hypothetical reward for a job well done. Basically, I’m a carrot-on-a-stick kind of girl. (Hope you’re not disoriented by the blinding mix of metaphors. If you experience nausea, blurred vision, or ringing in your ears, turn off your computer and talk to your doctor immediately.) Continue reading

This old thing?

I have a pair of cowboy boots that are older than my children. Unlike my kids, the boots have been through a lot of sh*t and never complained. I also have clothes left over from the industrial revolution. I can’t throw away perfectly good culottes, just because they’re missing a button. Recently, I’ve fallen far behind on my laundry, which has engendered the sentimental journey from hell. Continue reading