QOTD: And What Mysteries Keep You From Going Stale?

September 4, 2014August 29, 2018 / Ally Bean / 18 Comments

{A Different Sort of Throwback Thursday Post}

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“Kings and statesmen, business men and professional men read mystery stories for relaxation, for fun, and to sharpen their wits for the daily battle of life.

Don’t let yourself go stale. These books are better than a radio drama and cheaper than a good movie for the family and keep you alert. Have your bookseller send you the books listed below and save over 65% from the former $2.00 price.”

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SO I FOUND THIS Sun Dial Mysteries 1930s [?] bookmark in an old book that happens to be in a large stack of old books that happen to be in our basement. I was charmed by the sexist copy on the bookmark, and I was intrigued by the titles of the books listed on it.

I knew that Leslie Charteris wrote The Saint books, but I’ve never read one. And I knew that Georgette Heyer was a contemporary of Agatha Christie, but I’ve never read one of her books either. The rest of the authors were new to me.

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I HAVE NO IDEA who these oldtime mystery writers might be. I can’t even keep up with the current mystery writers, which is why I thought that I’d ask you, my gentle readers: which mystery writers do you enjoy the most? Or, if you don’t read mysteries, what do you read that I should be reading, too?

Heaven knows, I must remain alert and not go stale!

The Unsolved Case Of The Purloined Tomatoes

July 17, 2014July 29, 2015 / Ally Bean / 51 Comments

As I was walking around the back of the house on a bright and sunny summer morning I noticed that a red ripe tomato from my container garden on the deck above had fallen onto the path below.

Curious as always I wondered: How did that happen?

So I walked up onto the deck where I discovered more tomatoes off the vine. Tomatoes with little teeth-y marks on them. Tomatoes that seemed to have somehow fallen from the vine prematurely.

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Immediately my mind went to our ~~favorite sneak~~ resident squirrel, Fuzzy. So I bided my time and waited to talk with him when he stopped by for his daily afternoon visit.

After we exchanged the usual pleasantries, I looked him straight in the eye and asked: Fuzzy, do you notice anything different around here? There seems to have been a crime committed. A theft.

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To his credit Fuzzy took the time to look around before he denied all culpability in the crime. He looked to his left.

He looked to his right.

He glanced immediately below onto the deck.

Then he suggested that the real culprit in this crime was that nasty old raccoon who lives in the old tree on the other side of the ravine.

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When I mentioned that the nasty old raccoon hadn’t been seen in years and was presumed dead, and therefore incapable of stealing green or red tomatoes, Fuzzy ignored me. This was of no concern to him.

Having answered my questions to his satisfaction, Fuzzy then set about doing that which he had come to do: he started licking the terra-cotta pot to get his afternoon salt feast.