murder she wrote

I totally attribute my detective skills and intrigue in all things suspicious to my mother, for she is the one who allowed me to watch Murder She Wrote at the tender age of seven. Not only did she allow it, she downright encouraged it. Murder She Wrote was my mom's favorite TV show, with Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman running a close second.                   

And okay, Jessica Fletcher was kind of a grandma solving cases, and not some sultry thirty-year old who slept with all the witnesses, so I guess maybe that aspect made the whole murder thing more family friendly. But still. I can hear it now.
          "Hey kids, want to go to Grandma Fletcher's house to get babysat?"
          "Oh, goody Mom! Maybe we will get to make play dough, eat grandma's chocolate chip cookies, and solve a murder case!" 
Personally, I would have loved my Gram to do that. Instead we made crafts and played the invented game of Wicked Witch.

Jessica Fletcher, played by Angela Lansburry, was a former high school English teacher and mystery writer. Everybody knows mystery writers are great at solving real life cases. This is why the recent TV show Castle came into existence.

About the murder thing: I am so not into blood and gore. I don't want to see that stuff. I can't handle watching CSI because that goth biopsy coroner chick explains way too much grossness while she's investigating the cause of death. I do, however, love a good case.

When I was a kid age nine to fourteen, my favorite book series of all time was the Accidental Detectives, written by one clever Canadian author, Sigmund Brouwer. The series was sold in Christian book stores, which makes snooping around seem more Biblical. The series was meant for boys, evident by the fact that Ricky Kidd was the main character. I was, of course, totally in love with him, though that's not why I read.

This Accidental Detective book was a really good one. It had pirates in it. And they got tied up on the side of a cliff.

When I was like nine or something, I wrote to Santa and asked him to bring me a Sherlock Holmes hat for Christmas. Unfortunately, it didn't happen. They were probably all sold out that year. I did, however, own a pair of toy binoculars, and would use them to do surveillance work.

My brother Travis says that I am a stalker. I've tried to explain to him the difference between a stalker and a detective. I like Urban Dictionary's definition:

Stalker--a person obsessed with another to the point of insanity. I.E. following one everywhere, calling constantly, not following restraining orders, collecting their hair in shower drains. I never do any of that.  Urban Dictionary has this to say about a detective: A devilishly handsome individual who investigates and ruthlessly abolishes mysteries of all kinds. Only since I am a girl detective, I am not devilishly handsome. I'm angelically beautiful.    I'm thinking that I should write another good detective short story soon, similar to this one that had Mr. Storm and my assistant, Ginger, in it. Anybody have a mystery idea that I could crack? You tell me what needs to be solved and I will figure out how it is done. I'm having writer's block. I've already tried to solve a drug operation mystery and go on a date at the same time.  Oohh, maybe a kidnapping would be good. Who do you guys want to get nabbed? Mayor, pageant princess, your mother in law?