Tuesday’s Gone by Nicci French

Category: 50 Books

Last summer I read and loved Blue Monday, the first in the Frieda Klein series and really looked forward to reading the next one. Tuesday’s Gone came out this spring (in the U.S.) and I’ve had it on my list to read, and I finally put this book in my face this week and read it. It did not disappoint.

In this one a dead man is found by a social worker on a couch at a crazy lady’s house. The crazy lady is trying to feed him tea and cake. The police ask Frieda (a psychiatrist/therapist) to talk to the crazy lady to see if she killed the guy. From there the murder mystery grows into a huge whodunit because the murder victim was a con man who’d ripped off several rich people. So there are tons of motives. Frieda gets too involved again. She’s kind of like Columbo where the police are all, “Cool we’ve solved it, thanks.” and she’s all, “Wait there’s just one more thing I don’t understand…” and blows the case open again.

This book is a solid mystery. So good.

The characters are still great. We learn a little more about Frieda and her family. I was bummed that Josef wasn’t in this one as much. He brings the humor.

If you like well-written mysteries with lots of good characters definitely read this series. Also, you should read Blue Monday first because there are a lot of mentions of the previous mystery. This wouldn’t effect the enjoyment of the second book, but I think it would be a more rewarding read if you’ve already read the first one.

Put this book in your face!

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July is here, you dork.

Category: dribblings

At dinner the other night we were eating eggplant.

I says to them I says, “Hey, did you know that in Europe eggplants are called aubergines because in French Cuisine-”

And my sis-in-law, Cindy, says, “Shut up, Library.”

And then we all laughed, some more bitterly than others. I’m kidding! Hi, Cindy! (bitch)

***

So July is here.
We had a bit of a flood in the neighborhood yesterday. (What, rain? In July? In Alabama? Aren’t we usually in a drought by now?) And the creek flooded and once again, stole our trash cans. This makes 5 cans we’ve lost now. I have no idea where the creek ends, but all I know is, some lucky bastard just got some really nice cans. The one was only 2 weeks old! THAT is a brand new trash can! Gone!

Obviously things could be worse, but I’m still going to complain some more.

Then the flood had the NERVE to go into our garage and muddy it all up! 6 inches of muddy water!

I was at work when the flooding started, but got home as the waters receded back the edge of the grass by the creek. When I got out of the car I was so pissed cos I noticed right away that BOTH of our damn trash cans were gone. “Son of a bitch! Are you kidding me?!” I yelled, probably at God. I walked to the other side of the car to get my purse and I noticed something moved out of the corner of my eye. The drive way was twitching? Nay, it was a bunch of fish flopping around in the driveway gasping for…water, I guess.

But yeah, fish. FISH. Not minnows. I’m talking bream. The size of a cell phone.  In the driveway, floppin’ in the yard. What the shit kind of shit is this?

I’ll tell you what kind of shit this shit is. It’s some July shit, that’s what.

So I grabbed a bucket and VERY Girlie-y (lots of grossed-out shrieking on my part) scooped fish in it to drop ’em into the creek. Mom came over and helped save fish too. She was better at it, the fish saving, cos she didn’t seem to be grossed out by touching them. She’d grab one and huck it into the creek.

You shoulda seen it.

 

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Dork on, Dorker.

Category: dribblings

Well apparently I’m an insufferable dork. WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?

When did this happen?

I guess I’m one of THOSE people who know things about bugs and animals and other junk you find in your backyard. And to be honest, when I think of dorks who know stuff about the wildlife in their backyards I think of old people. Old people know every bird that comes to their (multiple) birdfeeders. It’s a fact.

ANYway. At work I was showing a coworker a picture of a hawk and I guess I was rambling on about what kind it was.

“Wait, you know what kind of hawk it is?”

“Oh sure, those are super common around here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, if you’ve seen a hawk around your house, it’s probably that kind.”

“Are you… are you a bird dork?”

“NO! I hate birds! But I mean, hawks are birds of prey, so… they don’t count.”

“Wow, even THAT sounded pretty dorky.”

And then, minutes later I was rambling on about a snake. Which, she called me out on. In fact, every day I’ve been busted with SOME kind of dorkness.

To be fair, she is a pageant dork and a fashion dork, and I’ve listened to her dork out about dance shows as well. But I tend to outdork the rest of the crew.

“Hey Jaimie, is this a black widow?”

“Nah, not even close it’s just some kind of an orb weaver-oh my gosh were you testing me just now?”

“Wow. Spider dork?”

“That’s not fair.”

So something like that happens multiple times a day. I called my pal Laura and told her that I’ve turned into her son, Ben, who spouts off animal facts all the time and without provocation.

We were checking the local weather and went to The Weather Channel’s website and right on the front page was a huge (it was too big, really) picture of a sea lamprey and my coworker made a shocked sound because, obviously. Those things look like nightmares.
I said, “Oh dang! A sea lamprey! The scourge of the Great Lakes!”

“Really?!”

“What?”

“You know what that thing is?”

“You don’t?”

“Of COURSE not; I’m normal.”

“I’m sure that LOTS of people know what sea lampreys are. They’re the scourge of the Great Lakes.”

“Anything else?”

“No! I’m not a TOTAL Dork. Well, I mean, they’re parasitic. They suck onto fish and kind of ruin them? Cos they drill holes in them. Or they die, but since they don’t eat the whole fish it’s like, gross dead fish everywhere. They’ve wrecked the ecosystem in the Great Lakes because they can’t control them. Why are you looking at me like that? YOU ASKED.”

“I wasn’t REALLY asking.”

“FINE. So what’s the weather gonna do?”

“You mean there’s SOMETHING you don’t know?”

“Aaaaaaand we’re done.”

Honestly, we are great pals. But I really have been on some kind of fact-spewing, nerd-a-thon kick lately. Let’s blame the heat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Anne Perry and the Murder of the Century by Peter Graham

Category: Uncategorized

anneperry

It’s summertime, which for some reason is the best time to read true crime. Look, it just is, you’re gonna have to trust me on this.

This true crime book is excellent. First of all, the story is compelling.
Secondly, this book is the perfect length, and the chapters are short enough that if you just want to read for a little while you’re not going to get bogged down in a long chapter.

Lastly, The writing is crisp and to the point. Mr. Graham deftly writes about the Hulme/Parker murder case where two fifteen year-old girls commit matricide. And if that doesn’t sound odd enough, the author includes many sections of Pauline Parker’s insane journal entries. It makes for some truly bazoo reading. It’s a page-turner, I promise, this book had me yelling, “WHAT?” about every three pages.

This is a pretty famous murder, made famous by Peter Jackson’s movie version, Heavenly Creatures,  and by the fact that Juliet Hulme, one of the murderers, grows up to be the famous murder/mystery author, Anne Perry.

“WHAT?”

I know!

The author sucks you in right away with the murder. Then he goes back and introduces the girls. And usually the bio part of true crime book are boring and dry, but Mr. Graham hits the high points and makes the biographies of the girls quick and interesting.

The hardest part of the book to read is, of course, the murder. It is brutal. The court parts are a little heavy, especially with all of the psychoanalysis of the 1950s, but I promise this book just flies along.

There were two things that sort of made for some difficult reading and the first is that since the author is from New Zealand, sometimes there were words or phrases that I was unfamiliar with, but there’s nothing that  couldn’t be figured out within the context. The second thing that made parts difficult to understand was the fact that the girls had SO MANY NAMES. First they have their real names, and then they gave each other nicknames. THEN they have nicknames for others as well. PLUS, it turns out Pauline’s parents were never married so they give her her mother’s maiden name. Then when they get out of prison they change their names. So what can you do, the book is filled with names; can’t be helped.

I have been recommending this book to EVERYONE at work. It’s short, interesting, and tells a crazy story that will stick in your mind for weeks after you read it.

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Pre-Julynannigans part the second

Category: dribblings

ALSO

By merely turning on my fancy ipod I have somehow lost ALL the music.

ALL THE MUSIC.

Well. Not ALL the music. Technically, and I don’t know HOW this is even possible, there is ONE album of music mysteriously left on it: Ryan Delmore’s The Spirit, the Water and the Blood.
It’s not a bad album. I bought it cos some of the worship teams I’m on play some of those songs so I thought I better learn how they go, right? It’s good stuff, but it’s not something I listen to for funsies, y’know?

Gee Lord, it’s like you’re trying to tell me something. BUT WHAT THE DAMN HELL IS IT?

I was driving and couldn’t listen to ALL THE MUSIC and I felt like Burgess Meredith at the end of that episode of the Twilight Zone when he steps on his glasses all, “No! NO! But there was TIME now!”
Wait, was that Burgess Meredith?

POINT IS: I had over 500 musics on there and now? One Jesus record. One Jesus record MYSTERIOUSLY remains.

Fine. FINE. Fine, Lord. Fine. You can have my ipod till the end of June, and then? You’re putting my music back, deal?

SHAKE ON IT.

 

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Am I on TV?

Category: dribblings

So I’m at home, minding my own, when the doorbell rings. I answer the door and it’s the neighbor lady from up the street. I’m not going to call her old, but she is a grandma. She’s not elderly or anything. I don’t know her that well, but I know her name and that she’s nice. She says to me she says, “Hey Jaimie, I know we don’t really know each other, but you seem like a really fun person.”

“Oh, well thank you. Come on in, it’s too hot outside to stand on the porch.”

“Okay, well, see the thing is, tonight is our Bunco night. And we need a sub. And I was hoping you’d be willing to come with me and play Bunco so we can have enough players.”

“Um.”

“I was going to ask you yesterday, but we didn’t need an extra player so I didn’t mention it, but now we need one. Will you do it?”

“Um.”

“We’re a really good group of old ladies, we’re fun! Honest!”

*sigh* “Is that some kind of cards?”

“No, it’s a dice game. It’s really easy. Please? I know you’ll fit in, plus we’ll feed you!”

“I…I…”

“Please? I’ll be back to pick you up at 5 till 6, okay?”

“That’s in forty minutes.”

“I know! I promise you’ll have fun.”

“Welp, okay den.”

WHAT JUST HAPPENED? AM I ON TV? IS THIS A JOKE? WHY DID I SAY YES? WHAT IS GOING ON?

(I asked if they drank booze at the dice game but she said no. Dang, cos I’m WAY more fun and outgoing if I’m drinking. So I did the right thing: pre-gamed with two whiskeys.)

So I tell Mr. Fleegan, “Hey, so, the neighbor lady up the street wants me to go shoot dice with her and her pals.”

“What?”

“So, anyway, I guess it’s over in Country Club somewhere.”

“Really?”

“You’re on your own for dinner.”

*******

Obviously I texted all my pals: I’M GAMBLING DICE WITH STRANGE OLD WOMEN ON A TUESDAY NIGHT.

They were all, “Since you act like an old lady you’ll fit right in.” and “Bunco isn’t gambling, you twit.” and the like.
I lost the most games, they called me the Loser Librarian. But I still got a prize! It’s a cool bowl that is painted like a watermelon.

 

 

 

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Rocky II and dad.

Category: dribblings

So Popsicle came over to watch a documentary I had dvr’d and went I exited that screen the TV was on HBO and it was the last fight scene in Rocky II.

We were watching this super dramatic fight, and it was so long and so ridiculous. Like, Rocky is just getting his face KILLED, and Apollo looks like he’s not even breaking a sweat. Mickey is yelling at Rocky, but you can’t hear what he’s saying, and Apollo’s coach says “Stick and move!” about 30 times each time there’s a corner scene. Then it cuts to Talia Shire fearfully watching the fight on her TV in the comfort of her own home all alone. She hasn’t got one friend? (Wait, was Paulie with her? Who cares.)

Anyway I said to dad, “You know, I have no idea who wins this fight.”

He says, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Shouldn’t we know this?”

“It’s probably Rocky, but still, I’m not sure.”

“He’s going to have to knock Apollo out because if they do it by points? Rocky lost 6 rounds ago.”

“True dat. His face.”

“How many rounds do they fight?”

“Heavy weights go for 15 rounds.”

“That is totally something guys know.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey wouldn’t it be hilarious if they hit each other at the same time and they BOTH got knocked out?!”

“Heh, yeah-”

“Holy shit.”

BECAUSE JUST THEN THEY BOTH HIT EACH OTHER AND GET KNOCKED OUT.

Well, I mean, they weren’t out, I guess, they took the whole “ten” seconds to get back up, and I swear, when it showed them grabbing the ropes and using them to climb back up it was like the ring had 20 ropes for them to climb. We died.

Anyway, SPOILER ALERT:

Rocky wins. Yells ‘Yo, Adrian!’ into the mic. Roll credits.

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Pre-July, oh my.

Category: dribblings

So we all know that July starts in 19 days because I’m sure that you, like me, keep a countdown of that bitchy, scortchfest of month that is some kind of bullshit, catch-up, karmic The Purge of my life. Maybe that didn’t make sense to you. This means you’re blessed and all the shitty stuff in your life happens in such a way that’s spread out over time and seems normal. Mine? Mine starts in June (Pre-July) and gets crazier until July busts in in a blaze of sulfuric volcano spray of liquid metal and ash.

What? I’m sorry, WHO is being dramatic?

So Pre-July is here, and so far it’s just been little things. I think maybe it’s stealing my sleep because I’ve done some boneheaded things that usually I would NEVER do because I’m so together and with-it all the time. One day last week, I went to take a shower. While in the shower I was wondering why I had no hot water, thinking maybe something was wonky with the water heater. When I got out of my shower and dressed, and walked into the kitchen I was shocked, SHOCKED, that the dishwasher was on. Did I turn it on and THEN go take a shower? Yes. Yes, I did.
Unless I want to entertain the thought that a ghost turned on the dishwasher, which, no thank you, Ghost Maid.

Day or two later, I go to take a shower again. The water heats up, it’s good to go, I start to get lathered up, and 15 seconds later the water is hell-hot. What the shit? I’m home alone. Who flushed the damn toilet on me? I’m thinking maybe some one came in and used the hall bathroom and flushed, and boy are they gonna get it when I’m done, but nay, I stick my head out of the shower and look and it’s the toilet next to the shower. I must’ve flushed it as I was getting in the shower. I don’t remember doing that, but that’s the only explanation I can come up with.
You think maybe Ghost Maid did it?

Reckon Ghost Maid could get off her ass and fold some laundry around here?

The third thing that happened to me I cannot blame on Ghost Maid. I was scooping out some sherbet, which I don’t even like, but Mr. Fleegan bought it so I figure the faster I eat it the faster I can go and pick out AN ADULT FROZEN DESSERT TREAT. (It is a fact that rainbow sherbet is for children. Why he made that purchase, I’ve no idea.) ANYway, apparently I eat like a child, and when I went to lick the spoon with my whole mouth (shut up) I didn’t notice that the damn spoon was damn FROZEN and it stuck to my tender, baby-soft lips. And instead of being the cool-as-a-cucumber adult that you know I always am, I panicked and jerked the frozen-to-my-lips spoon from my mouth and ripped my whole face off (starring Nicholas Cage and John Travolta). I promptly took the Lord’s name in vain and cursed the very existence of sherbet.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” asked the sherbet buyer.

“NO. THIS GARBAGE FILTH CHILDREN’S ICE CREAM WASTE IS TRYING TO KILL ME.”

“What?”

“My face is bleeding and I hate the world.”

 

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The Victory Season: The End of World War II and the Birth of Baseball’s Golden Age by Robert Weintraub

Category: 50 Books

I don’t usually read baseball books during baseball season. I like to save them for the off-season. It’s a great system where I don’t over-baseball myself during the summer (Is that even possible?), and it gives me some baseball in the winter when I start jonesin’ for it. I made an exception for this book because it sounded more interesting than the typical baseball memoir, and I didn’t think I could wait till December to read it. I’m glad I didn’t wait.

For a book that covers one season (the 1946 season) it is jammed packed with baseball history goodness. Not only do we get treated to the exciting pennant race leading to a seven-game World Series between the Red Sox and Cardinals, but we’re also given many glimpses into the military lives of the players who served in WWII, as well as the American history and culture right after the war. Plus, Weintraub throws in Jackie Robinson’s first year in the Bigs. This book is a massive undertaking of historical and baseball fact-checking. There were times when I felt the book was getting really bogged down with too much information, but the thing this book has going for it is baseball, and baseball is filled with funny, charming, poignant people and stories. So as soon as my attention would start to wander, Weintraub would throw in a great story.

What I really appreciated about this book was that it wasn’t sugar-coated. He shows the players in an honest light. If they had bad attitudes about their salary or teammates or whatever, he didn’t make them out to be saintly heroes. It’s easy to take the legends of baseball and make them sound larger than life, but Weintraub brings them back to earth showing us their gritty, human nature. This is especially true in the Jackie Robinson chapters.

Overall, this was a really enjoyable read.  I think any baseball fan would enjoy it.

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What’s the buzz? What’s happenin’?

Category: dribblings

SO. ANYway.

A full-time position became available at my job so I applied for it. But then so did one of my coworkers. So things were going to be a little awkward at work, but we’re all adults so, maybe there’d be some disappointment, but we wouldn’t hate each other or anything.

The time came for the interview. I had the weirdest interview ever and pretty much thought I was on a reality TV show or something. That’s how ridic the interview was.

I’m leaving out all the details because I don’t want to get dooced before the job even kicks in.

So what had-happened was they gave the job to BOTH OF US. The only explanation of this is God made the whole thing happen.

Starting May 31st I’m a full-time liberry employee. BOOSH!

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