Good to the Last Death

Whoever said life begins at forty must have been heavily medicated, drunk, or delusional. Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good. But as they say, all good things come to an end. I'd honestly love to know who "they" are and rip them a new one. One year later, I'm a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed and breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semitransparent people has become a side job - deceased people I'm not even sure are actually there. I think they need my help, but since I don't speak dead, we're having a few issues. To add to the heap of trouble, there's a new dangerously smokin' hot lawyer at the firm who won't stop giving me the eye. My BFF is thrilled with her new frozen face, thanks to her plastic surgeon, her alimony check, and the miracle of Botox. And then there's the little conundrum that I'm becoming way too attached to my ghostly squatters... Like Cher, I'd like to turn back time. Now. No can do. Whatever. I have wine, good friends, and an industrial sized box of superglue. What could possibly go wrong? Everything, apparently. All in all, it's shaping up to be a wonderful midlife crisis...

Midlife's a journey. Enjoy the ride. Crisis included. Never knew that life after death was far more dangerous than real life. Never in my forty years did I think my new normal would be gluing body parts back onto ghosts and hosting a houseful of dead squatters. Thank God for superglue and a strong stomach. Never thought I'd date the Grim Reaper and that I would be the one to blow it. I mean, how idiotic does one have to be to get dumped by a dude who lives in Hell? Going about business as usual is not usual in any way. No one is who they seem to be... and to be honest, neither am I. What I'd known to be true has turned out to be myth. The Angels are frightening, and the Demons are hot. Wait. I mean not. Who am I kidding? The Grim Reaper is very hot - like a freaking premenopausal hot flash hot. Now I'm in a race against time and all sorts of unsavory supernatural horrors to save my deceased gay husband's afterlife. And that was a sentence I never thought would leave my lips. Whatever. I'll yank up my big girl panties, stock up on wine, and lean on my girlfriends as needed. As they say, when the going gets tough, the tough get inebriated... or something like that. With everything to lose, I have no choice but to grow some lady balls. That I can do. I just hope balls will be enough. I had planned to live midlife in peace, not in pieces. Good luck to me...

Midlife's a bumpy journey. The ride is a freaking rollercoaster. The crisis is real. With my life back to normal-normal being a very relative word-one would think I'd catch a break. One would be very wrong. With an Angel gunning for me and a Demon in my bed, life couldn't be more complicated. Not to mention, I'm going to have to make a rather large life choice. Do I want to live forever? Does anyone? Forever is a very long time. Whatever. I'll think about it tomorrow... or next week... or next month. As long as I have my girlfriends, my dogs, a super-sized case of merlot, and my deceased squatters, I'm good to go. My midlife crisis. My rules. If it doesn't kill me dead first, I plan to have a most excellent midlife crisis.

My midlife crisis. My rules. And if it doesn't put me six feet under, I plan to live it up in style - possibly for the rest of eternity... After a Luke Skywalker/Darth Vader moment, I discovered I do indeed have a father. He comes with a hell of a lot of baggage, but I've decided to keep him. Not only do I have a father, I have a kickass new sister, a ghostly family, and super powers to boot. If you add to the mix that I'm dating the Grim Reaper, it's a freakin' party. The only thing standing in the way of my happiness is the Angel of Mercy, though Angel of Misery is more appropriate. She's responsible for almost everyone I have loved, and who has loved me, being taken away. With the help of family and friends, I will track her down and show her exactly what a perimenopausal hot flash looks like in action. Job: Death Counselor - supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is rewarding. For real. Mission: Bring the seriously evil Angel of Mercy to justice without dying or getting anyone else killed in the process. Team: A bunch of certifiable Immortals, including one who re-homes vibrators. Yes, you read that correctly. How to do this? Wing it. Wine, my Demon boyfriend, a houseful of deceased squatters, and good friends by my side will help.

Midlife is definitely a journey. The road has massive potholes. And the crisis... it's the gift that keeps on giving. Being forty is supposed to be freaking fabulous, not fatal. Taking on a daunting new job minus the description isn't the smartest move I've ever made, even if it was to save a friend. Hopefully, it doesn't turn out to be the stupidest... or deadliest. Why can't things stay the way they were? I love my old job. Supergluing ghosts back together and solving their issues is its own reward. Not to mention, I'm seriously good at it. Although, I must say, I'm ridiculously excited for the new Death Counselor's arrival in nine months... Adding to my problems, there are four new angels in town who are riding my butt and judging every move I make. Literally. Who knew destroying one Immortal could cause me so much trouble? If I'm found guilty, I'll be pushing up daisies. Luckily, my nutty friends have my back, and the Grim Reaper has my heart. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing is impossible. I am living proof. Let's just hope I live to prove it.

Midlife is madness-magical, messy, and one freaking crisis after another. With a new job I didn't apply for and an extended family I didn't know I had-midlife has become somewhat problematic. Gluing ghosts back together is easy compared to my new celestial occupation. The Grim Reaper wants to put a ring on it. Tim wants to be a father. Candy Vargo has lost her damn mind, and Jennifer thinks we're all sparkly vampires. I've been given an impossible task with catastrophic consequences for failure, but it wouldn't be my midlife without another crisis. What's the saying? When in Crazytown, embrace the insanity or go insane. It's time to lean into the madness. I'm putting down roots, pulling up my big-girl panties, and getting down to business. With one month to succeed, it's time to grow a bigger pair of lady-balls and play in the big league. The rules are unclear. However, when it's a matter of midlife and death, I'm making the rules. And I will win.

Midlife is sheer madness, and the facts of midlife are not taught in school. Unfortunately, some lessons are hellishly hard to learn. I thought I had it figured out. I was wrong. Proving I'm the Angel of Mercy is turning into a sh*tshow of epic proportions. Not too long ago, I was a forty-year-old gal with a stable and boring life ahead of me. Now? Not so much. I have celestial siblings who are no walk in the park. Their decisions can destroy my future. And of course, my predecessor has given me a month to do the impossible or I'll lose everything that means anything to me. Gluing ghosts back together is turning out to be the easiest part of my job. Fine. If this is my fate, I accept. Nothing is impossible if you believe. I choose to believe.

Midlife is supposed to be messy, but this is a full-on catastrophic crisis. Just when I thought life might be getting back to normal, normal being a relative word, I couldn't have been more wrong. Marriage proposal from the Grim Reaper? Yes. Beautiful healthy baby? Yes. Friends and family safe? Yes. Ghost of my worst enemy sitting on my front porch? OMG. Yep. With the ghostly world imploding around me, I'm going to need more than superglue to repair it. Question? Am I willing to do what has to be done? Answer? I'm about to find out. To say forty has been an eventful year is an understatement. On the contrary, it's turning out to be a seriously hard-knock midlife.

Lately, my life has been a big, fat, hairy midlife crisis. I could really go for a boring day or three. Apparently, there's no rest for the over-forty crowd. Yes, I have fabulous friends. Yes, I have a beautiful baby. Yes, the ghosts are coming back home. Yes, I'm in love with the Grim Reaper. However, that sexy Demon has got some major 'splainin' to do... like his possible involvement in the shocking kidnapping of my worst and most deadly enemy. With a drag queen and an ice queen as my back up, we're going to sashay away into the Darkness to find the truth and turn a wrong into a right. Although, I'm learning fast that black and white are often clouded with shades of gray. Whatever. I'm putting on my rose-colored glasses and going for it. I plan to live midlife in peace... not pieces. Good luck to me.

I did not order the extra slice of Armageddon to go with my midlife crisis. Apparently, if you're an Immortal, it comes free of charge. I have until sundown tomorrow to get to a parallel plane of existence, save my family, and kick bad-guy butt all before the world ends. Impossible, right? Not according to my posse of whackado buddies. They like to remind me that nothing is impossible as long as I believe. Well, I'm about to be the mother of all believers. Armed with nothing but a folder titled 'Sh*t Pile' and backed by a few fabulous drag queens, a toothpick-chewing nutjob, a sweetheart with a penchant for sharing disgusting facts, and an ice queen who doesn't play nice with others, we have our work cut out for us. Time is not on my side, and I am having one hell of a midlife crisis.

I want to live my life in peace for a little while as opposed to pieces. I don't know who I have to bribe to catch a break, but I'm willing to pay the big bucks. Apparently, no one got the memo. Midlife is one messy ride. Fine. I'm off to Lexington, Kentucky to find a self-proclaimed dragon who sports a mullet, beer belly and delusions of Immortal grandeur. This time he's gone too far. He's messed with me and mine for the last time. The way to end a dragon is to remove his tail. We thought we had. A tail is in the back. Right? Wrong. So, so wrong. With the love of my Immortal life by my side along with a few smack-talking, geriatric Nephilim and a foul-mouthed, toothpick loving Keeper of Fate, I'm ready. And when it's done, I'm taking a freaking vacation. I've earned it. It's time to slay the dragon for good. This time there will be no mercy.

Midlife is madness and the crisis is expensive … to my sanity. Just when I think everything is calming down, it ramps back up to eleven. On what should be one of the happiest and most romantic days of my life, the unthinkable happens. The ghosts I'd so kindly guided into the Light showed up on my front porch, including my dead husband. Something or someone is messing with the balance and if it's not remedied, the Darkness will destroy the world. I really don't have time for that crap. With the love of my Immortal life and my batsh*t crazy friends by my side, I'll take on the Higher Power and show It a thing or two; like what true faith means. No one is going to play life and death games with me. If they do … they'll lose. Wish me luck, because this time next week, I plan to be having the time of my midlife.