I got to thinking why I so very much like reading and writing about strong women. To be honest with you, I think it's because I've spent most of my life as a wimp, doing as I was told, minding my manners, saying all the right, and expected, things,
until one day
I realized being miss-goody-two-shoes was getting me exactly nowhere. Since then, I've been called disrespectful, annoyingly forward, and my favorite--uppity.
To make up for lost time, I now suit up as Lalla Bains, born again bachelorette, ex-NY Model, crop-duster, sometime amateur sleuth.
I might as well let her tell it... she's crowding me for the spotlight anyway.
Lalla Bains here, and I
seldom do as I'm told especially after my lyin', cheatin' whoring
second
ex-husband took up with yet another too-tasty-to-resist side-dish.
So what if I took a baseball bat to his recently restored vintage Caddy? It was worth it just to watch him
try to yodel
his way out of this latest lie... like I didn't catch him and his secretary fogging up the windows of his pimp-mobile.
I smashed in the headlights, the driver's side window, and just for good measure, slashed the tires. That way, he
had to get a tow.
I skinned him of the Caddy in the divorce and, just for spite, painted it candy apple red.
That's me, hell raiser--well, sort of. Flying and partying don't mix during the long hard days of summer.
Even if I had the energy
I get too damn little sleep as it is and now that I'm fu-fuuu-fu-forty.--'kay, that's--that's just--rude to laugh. You try my life for a day--up at three a.m., chasing after lazy pilots and the smart mouthed ground crew I inherited when my dad when he went
in for a triple by-pass.
"Would you mind coming home and taking over the crop-dusting business?" he says, coughing lightly into the phone. "I might not be around much longer."
Miraculously recovered, my tight-wad father is now too busy to take back his desk, what with rediscovering
a whole new wardrobe from the back of his closet.
He's in leisure suits, squiring local widows to funerals and scarfing up free meals at the wakes while I try to shake off the ankle biting Chihuahua we inherited from the last murder case.
On the bright side, my love life is finally out of the dumps since I have a wonderful relationship with Sheriff Caleb Stone. Well, that is, it would be, if only I could do as I'm told and stay away from solving crimes. It's not my fault that people die at my feet, or they're found six feet under a local lake strapped into the front seat of my trophy red caddy.
But, If I did as I was told and stayed out of trouble,
I never would have solved those cases.
Besides, it helps keep my mind off turning fu-fuu-forty.
So, now you understand why
well behaved women seldom make history is now my motto.
Note to self: tattoo the above quote somewhere I can clearly see it when I'm in another jam.