Recently, I ran into an old boyfriend “You’re looking good,” he said, pulling me in for a hug.I started to smile and say “thanks.” “… for an old broad.”I’d forgotten he was the class clown. Ah, well, I’ve forgotten a lot of things. Sometimes I even forget how many wrinkles I have.Being an old broad isn’t all that bad. Instead of rushing off to work each morning, I take my coffee out to my flower garden and plan what I hope will be one fast paced, gripping murder mystery after another.Currently, I’m working on two new novels. In the first, a slightly crazy chef in the south of France has been doing away with people who get in her way, a murder mystery, of course. The second features a young woman who finances her Paris apartment and extravagant lifestyle by helping herself to diamonds and other baubles their owners don’t really need. I suspect that a body will turn up soon.When I’m not writing, I’m trying to understand how to post on Twitter and Instagram. And cook, clean, garden, do yoga, text my grandchildren, update my website, phone my aunts, teach my husband how to make pie crust, and make sure I have clean underwear. My life is rich and full.To quote essayist John Burroughs, “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, and all the friends I want to see.”Read more about this authorRead less about this author