Death Be Not Nice

"You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?"

In ten years I’ll be pushing 70, and when I say pushing 70 — I mean all 70 has to do is step a little to the side and I’m over the edge.

Sometimes it feels like Father Time is stalking me.

I mean, when you think about how old you will be  ten years from this very day, well, it’s downright shocking, depressing and/or scary!  It makes you feel like you want to get a move on. 

 And I’m all for things that make me want to get a move on because I secretly suspect my default button is set on “lazy” or at the very least “putter”.

Frankly, you’d be shocked to know how much time I’ve spent over the course of my life just milling around.

Of course, I’ve always felt I was accomplishing something, but when I actually look back on it;- what?

Luckily, I’ve got my brain, Peanuts, to blame everything on which is a great comfort to me.  I’m not the lazy one, Peanuts is by gum!

Still I’m not really working very hard on my biggest goal which is to write a book.

You see, sometimes my brain, Peanuts, bubbles over like a pot with too much macaroni left on high.  Peanuts is trying its darndest to cook something up, but the results are often questionable and somewhat messy.

Case in point, I once wrote ten chapters into a murder mystery entitled Book Clubbed to Death, but when I took it to a writer’s group and read an excerpt from it, the writing instructor asked for a display of hands on how many people thought it sucked — and almost everyone raised their hands.

I made a promise to myself right  and there, that if I ever wrote another murder mystery that particular instructor was going to be the murder victim.

So on that happy note, dear reader, I am now going to go takes some vitamins, check on my maccaroni, and then get busy writing that murder mystery.  I’ve already got the title:

Who  Stabbed the Writing Instructor? (and then poisoned him and electrocuted him) 


 Linda Vernon

Until next time . . . I love you