Jealousy or envy, the big green monster. Unless you live in Boston, in which case it’s a big, green, left-field wall. Just saying.

I’m not much given to envy. With the following exceptions:

  1. People who live near ancient ruins. I want to dig!
  2. People who grew up with horses. I want your childhood.
  3. Anyone who has a house with no stairs. I’ll swap you.


So, I’m pretty much good to go. I’ve got problems, but so does everyone else. Life hasn’t been easy, but it has also been incredibly interesting. Rich with experiences. I’ve got a great marriage, a few terrific friends, dogs, a home, a good little car, lots of books, and a huge, high-definition television. And we live reasonably near Fenway Park.


If someone would like to round out my life by donating a largish sum of cash, I’d give you a big hug and a thank you. Beats out what you’ll get from donating the same amount to a some politician’s PAC, doesn’t it?

Otherwise, I’m good. So is life.



Set in Boston, it’s Angie Harmon as the hot Boston detective and Sasha Alexander as her BFF, aka the Medical Examiner.

Tonight’s episode:

A cop is murdered in Maine. The crime is probably connected to a series of crimes in Boston. So, Angie (Sasha stays in the lab in Boston) heads to Maine. When they get there, the cop’s corpse is still lying on the sidewalk. 

Rizzoli and Isles Header

Garry thinks maybe they got beamed up to Maine because otherwise, that corpse had to be pretty ripe.

It gave us the best laugh of the week. This is the closer for season six. The seventh and final season of Rizzoli & Isles will air this summer. Unless the suits change their minds (they’ve done it before) and bring them back for an encore season. Or a different network picks up their option.

One way or the other, I’m sure you will be able to catch it in reruns … forever.



I am appalled by the idea of anyone watching me as I write. Yikes. I’d never get anything done.

Marilyn birthday portrait writer

Writing has always been my most private activity. The deeper I am into the process, the more reclusive I am. While writing my book, I was effectively missing for a year. Even working as technical writer, I needed to be alone to do my thing. No interruption. No chit-chat. Writing is solitary … but never lonely.

Sometimes, while writing, I’m so far gone that anyone trying to talk to me will cause me to jump out of my seat. I am oblivious to the world around me until I surface for a bite to eat, or some sleep.

If someone creates “WITSEC for Writers,” sign me up!