What can one say about a highly intelligent
woman, a professional, one who might even
have acquired a bit of wisdom over the years
in her life . . . and she likes to read f---ing
murder mysteries?! ~!@#$%^&*()_+
I'm reminded of my gran; she liked to read
Harlequin romances. She'd buy one at a time,
read until sleepy, hide the book . . . and upon
finishing it, burn it in the wood stove.
One time, I found a box of them at a garage
sale. Tickled me! I wouldn't have been caught
dead reading one, but my gran loved them.
So, I take them to her and she's overwhelmed.
She sits there, quiet and pondering, and I'm
thinking, "What the hell?!"
Finally, she says she has a plan. Says she'll
hide them under her bed, read them one at a
time and burn them per usual. Then she tells
me she wants me to make a solemn promise.
Upon her death, I am to surreptitiously get
the box out from under her bed and get rid
of it without the family ever seeing it . . .
to say nothing of her church ladies.
I'm on the verge of cracking up, going into
hysterics, rolling on the floor, when I see
she's dead serious. Bless her heart! I swear,
I could have wept.
So love the old gal; she will ever and always
be in my heart. And, when I get caught up
in one of my murder mysteries, I lay it out
in plain sight in hopes my gran will get a
chuckle out of it! No need to burn them
when I die . . . just pass them onto my girl.
Surely, if I've been a good mom, she'll read
them and think of me!
wheres my mysteries
needs me good reads now and then
no burning required
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