The Invasion of the Bodice Rippers

Be still, my heart

Hey hun,

Sorry that my email is later than usual! This past week, I have been totally, utterly engrossed in a book. I know, I can hear you asking, I’m ancient and have read so many books — how good could this one possibly be? Well, I hate to admit it, but Denise got me into this romance/fantasy thing and holy guacamole is it one heck of a way to spend a day. 

Generally speaking, I am the last person who would ever get into something like that. I’ve had enough with the simpering, meek damsels and the chiseled Fabios to last me more than a lifetime. But last week I was getting over a little cold, nothing serious but I felt gross enough to cancel the lunch date I had with Denise. She, the doll she is, very kindly came around with a cup of soup and her copy of the aforementioned book, which she’d long done and dusted. 

I had planned for an early evening anyway, and because she really wanted to have someone to talk about it with, I figured I’d give it a shot and read a bit before I fell asleep. Well, easier said than done! I practically had to chuck the book across the room to force myself to stop reading. Never have I ever been so totally enthralled by a book, let alone a romance, a beach read, a (dare I say it?) a bodice ripper?

Now, please try not to be alarmed – this is not like one of those transcribed soap operas that you see by the cashier in Shaw’s. Ok, maybe it’s a little like that, but there was actually a very substantial plot! There’s scheming, power grabs, and significant flesh wounds! Several flesh wounds! Even a threat of gangrene! 

Anyway, as I confessed to her that I couldn’t get away from this book, Denise informed me that this was just the first in a whole series. Are you kidding me? Shall I never leave the house again? Naturally, once I recovered from my cold, I had to go over to debrief and then load up on the next two installments. Since submersion, I haven’t been responding to phone calls or emails, and I didn’t even watch all my regular shows. 

I might have looked down on romance books before, but I can understand the appeal now. They have more daring, romance, and unyielding love than real life ever does. Running into battle to save your beloved is much more exciting than getting into a fight with your husband about the beard trimmings in the sink, then waking up at 6 AM to drive him to his colonoscopy appointment. 

So what’s the harm in a little romantic indulgence? I have noticed that in books like these, there are always magical houses, or servants and hoards of wealth to deal with the dishes and dust bunnies. Men have rippling abs, yet cry freely. Women have immaculate, thick hair. Lactose intolerance doesn’t exist, bread doesn’t make you fat, and nobody ever pisses themselves when they sneeze. It’s a nice little vacation for the brain, and as Denise, the eternal hopeless romantic says, flirting saves lives.

But after the installment I’m reading now, I think I’ll be ready for a break. As exciting as it all is, I don’t know how much more throat bobbing with emotion, hands raking through onyx hair, snarling, loosening bowels, and glittering gowns I can take. Maybe I’ll pick up a mystery, or maybe even a horror! It is getting to be Halloween time, after all. Do you have anything planned yet? Any parties? Cemetery seances? Plans to summon Satan? 

I haven’t even yanked the box of decorations out from the basement yet. Honestly, it’s all a bit old and dusty. I think the fake blood has all but flaked off the decapitated head that I usually hang in the doorway. 

Perhaps that’s what I should do this week, go out and get some new decor. I keep seeing those giant skeletons out in people’s yards and some of them are putting very creative spins on their new skele-friends. The woman at the end of the street crocheted a cowboy hat for hers! It’s very tempting to get one, but I just keep asking myself where I’d keep it for the rest of the year. The guest room? 

Then again, I wonder if it’s even worth doing more than cobwebs and a jack-o-lantern. I haven’t had more than 5 trick-o-treaters in as many years. Marcy says there’s always a line of parents driving their kids around her street. Let’s just say she lives on the full-sized candy side of town. I hate to be a grouch, but we used to make kids at least walk a little for their candy. I suppose there’s a lot different than when I had little kids running around. 

Regardless of the kids, there are still the teenagers to contend with. Every year they’re roaming the streets looking for trouble now. Their pranks range from garden-variety egging to increasingly serious stuff. Last year they smashed a car window two streets over! It’s almost as if they’re trying to one-up each other. I know from the news that a lot of them are filming their shenanigans and putting it on the internet, which honestly seems like the stupidest thing to me. Why leave a breadcrumb trail that leads to your door? 

I know that by nature teenagers are plain dumb, but it’s as if they don’t understand the difference between a harmless prank and hurting someone. Maybe it’s that they don’t care about the consequences in real life when they get so much attention online. So anyway, I think any decorations I get will be more to scare off those punks more than everything else.

Should I just read out loud from that book I’m reading on the porch? I kid, of course, but nothing would scare off a punk faster than a grandma being “cringe”. See? I’m with the times. One of the girls working at the salon explained what “cringe” means as she was telling me about one of her girlfriends who’s trying to go “viral”. I hope she’s up to date on her flu shots.

No matter how you get your thrills, make sure you stay safe. Do me a favor and keep your phone on, just in case the cops call you to reign in your senile Grams reading her smut on the porch. 

Love, 

Grams