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Archive for April 8th, 2021

Acclaimed novelist Rosemary Mild pulls back the curtain on life, love, loss, and everything in between in her new book, In My Next Life I’ll Get It Right.  In this charming, entertaining, and heartfelt collection, Mild dances to her own captivating tune. With a keen eye, wicked wit, and sparkling delivery, she produces a collection of essays ranging from the hilarious to the serious, from the practical to the irreverent. Clever, pitch-perfect, and polished, Mild’s conversational tales are destined to strike a chord with readers.

Mild writes with candor, compassion, and honesty in a voice that brims with humor and wisdom. Her essays run the gamut from gritty observations on everyday life to laughing at her own wishful thinking tempered with tough reality. In My Next Life I’ll Get It Right has it all.

No subject escapes the pen of Rosemary Mild—wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother. Readers will delight in her Hawaii adventures; “Senior Decade”; brief encounters with the famous; medical mishaps; and her rocky road from blind dates to lasting love. Join her as she takes on sailing, skating, Jazzercise, football, marathons, and more—and come along as Mild lays bare a mother’s heart-wrenching loss. A collection that is at once timeless and timely, In My Next Life I’ll Get It Right is utterly irresistible.

About The Author

Rosemary is an award-winning writer of personal essays that have appeared in the Washington Post, Baltimore Sun, Chess Life, Generations, and elsewhere. As a retired editor, she’s a long-time member of the Society of Professional Journalists and was a Silver Owl (twenty-five-year member) of the National Press Club in Washington, D.C. Rosemary grew up in Milwaukee and graduated from Smith College. In 2013, she and Larry moved to Honolulu, Hawaii, where they cherish time with their daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. When not dreaming up outrageous ideas for her essays, she and Larry stalk villains and solve crimes as coauthors of more than a dozen mystery and suspense novels and story collections. They’re members of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime (Larry’s a Mister), and Hawaii Fiction Writers. 

Find out more at www.magicile.com


From Rosemary Mild’s new book IN MY NEXT LIFE I’LL GET IT RIGHT

Other people have senior moments. I’m having a senior decade.

          Unable to sleep, at 2:00 a.m. I shuffled into the kitchen for a few sips of diet tonic water, hoping it would relax me. No need to put on my glasses. I saw a creepy crawly cockroach high up on the cabinet over the fridge. After fumbling under the sink for the can of Raid, I sprayed the invader good and hard. Next morning I strolled into the kitchen for breakfast. Now that I had my glasses on, I saw that I had sprayed an exposed, unpainted cabinet screw.

Larry got out the little tub of margarine for lunch, opened it, and discovered a coffee filter filled with used coffee grounds. It was garbage I’d prepared to throw away. At breakfast I’d been rushing to get ready for my Jazzercise class and I put it in the fridge instead. Does that mean I threw away the actual tub of margarine? Mercifully, I’ve forgotten.

In 2003 we were driving Emily, our five-year-old granddaughter, to a roller-skating birthday party. Ah, I thought, a chance to try in-line skates. The man behind the counter scowled. “You don’t want those. They’re for racing, they have no brakes.” He handed me a pair of four-wheelers. I spent the next half-hour churning round and round the indoor rink just trying to keep my balance. The skates were so clunky.

The birthday girl’s dad came gliding up beside me, the friendly host. Maybe the spinning strobes had taken a few decades off my face.

“How long has it been since you roller-skated?” he asked.        

His question caught me off guard. I had to count back to 1948 when I was thirteen. In my Milwaukee suburb of Whitefish Bay, we strapped on ball-bearing skates and tightened them with a square key. Finally, I reported: “Fifty-five years.”

“Oh,” he said, and skated away.

I’m so well organized that I have a red folder on my desk labeled URGENT BUSINESS. The problem is, some of the stuff in it is from 2015.

Woody Allen’s play title You Know I Can’t Hear You When the Water’s Running is sheer brilliance. I’m always saying it to Larry. We do a lot of grousing, especially if we’re in different rooms: “What did you say?” Recently, at a Zoom meeting during COVID-19, we were all chatting. “Bill” mentioned one of his favorite authors, and asked us what books we were reading. He addressed “Howard,” who had joined the meeting while eating his breakfast.

“Howard? What are you reading?”

“Oatmeal.”

That could’ve been me.

My pet peeve in restaurants is an overzealous waiter asking me, “Are you still working on that?”

“No,” I’m tempted to snap. “I’m eating.” I’m quite sure he’s about to pull the fork out of my mouth.

We were in the waiting room of our doctor’s office in Annapolis, and in walked Marty and Sheila Litzky. With her incomparable insight, Sheila said, “You know you’re getting older when you meet your friends of forty years in the urologist’s office.”

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