The Game of Getting Older - Newest Version

If you read my previous Getting Older Game review, I'm still giving it zero stars. Do not recommend. Return for full refund. You get the picture.

You might remember a few months ago my knee and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms. We had a contract: I walked, it cooperated. Then it went rogue, called its union rep, and demanded to renegotiate.

So I went to Dr. Zinno, got a cortisone shot, and I was pain-free… for a whopping two days. Whoo hoo.

I tried to rest it as much as possible over the summer, but now that I’m back to work, my knee has decided to crank things up a notch. As a free bonus (because it is nothing if not generous), it now makes charming little crinkly, crunchy sounds, like Rice Krispies met Almond Granola in a noisy love affair.

I called Dr. Zinno’s office in late August, but thanks to my employer switching insurance companies, I had to wait until after September 1st for the first available appointment. Today was finally the day.

The best thing about Dr. Zinno, aside from the fact that he can stick a needle in a joint without making me cry, is his sense of humor. When I told him I was done playing the Getting Older Game, he immediately suggested the Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza game. I’m going to have to look that one up. When I told him about my new sound effects, he said, "Of course! Your kneecap is shot!" That's another thing I like about him. He doesn't mince words. I'm totally okay with that.

Since cortisone fizzled out in record time, we discussed alternative injections. Step two is Zilretta, an extended-release corticosteroid that works over time. Step three is a gel injection—experimental, expensive, and in need of insurance approval. For now, he’s requesting the Zilretta.

And if those injections still don’t work? Drum roll please ... Intervention. When he said that, I briefly imagined a table talk with my knee and its troublemaking friends, discussing its recent bad behavior and incentives to correct the same. Sadly, he meant the surgical kind: Knee replacement.

I really don’t want to play this game anymore. Can’t we just switch to Jenga? At least until the “natural aging process” makes my hands too shaky to pull and stack the blocks.

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flymm

Nothing says 'motherly love' like a teaspoon of poison.  

“Family is everything,” they say. Umm, sure, but if you’re a Preaker, “everything” includes Munchausen by proxy, inherited trauma, and a side of small-town judgment that could strip paint.

Let’s just start with Adora, a mother whose idea of love involves dosing her kids with poison tea and hovering over them with a wet washcloth like Florence Nightingale’s evil twin. I think she believed she was helping her daughters. I also think she was delusional and dangerous. If Sharp Objects proves anything, it’s that not all hugs are created equal.

Then there’s Camille. Our narrator spends most of the book drunk, hungover, or carving words into her own skin. With a mother like Adora, can we blame her for wanting to crawl into a bottle (or six)? Still, watching her try to bond with Amma by partying like a washed-up sorority sister was frustrating. Camille’s story is messy and sad, but in Flynn’s hands, it’s also razor-sharp (pun fully intended).

And Amma. Oh, Amma. Spoiled, manipulative, and the kind of kid who would happily dissect a hamster in homeroom if she thought it would get her attention. She threw off more red flags than a Chinese military parade, but I admit it: I did not see her coming as the killer. Call me naive, but I don’t usually expect my middle school cheerleaders to be secretly orchestrating murder sprees. Flynn pulled the rug and then lit the rug on fire while I was still standing on it.

Of course, Wind Gap itself deserves a cast credit. That town is basically one long episode of Real Housewives of Missouri. Gossip-fueled, claustrophobic, and full of people who will 100% notice that you wore the same dress twice this week. The perfect petri dish for dysfunction and whispered cruelty.

The cutting motif was brutal but effective. Camille’s body-as-a-diary of trauma works. It’s grotesque, it’s heartbreaking, and it never lets you forget what this book is really about: wounds, both seen and unseen.

By the end, I wasn’t sure what disturbed me more, the murders or the Preaker family dynamics. Honestly, if Adora doesn’t land you in therapy, Amma definitely will. Camille might claw her way to “okay” someday, but she’s not getting a happily-ever-after. At best, she gets to stop spiraling long enough to breathe.

Gillian Flynn writes psychological wrecking balls disguised as novels, and Sharp Objects is Exhibit A. Absolutely disturbing and absolutely worth the read. Just maybe keep your mother at arm’s length while you do.

The Game of Getting Older - A (tongue in cheek) review

The Getting Older Game is NO fun. Zero stars. Would not recommend. Not worth the price. Poor quality. Yuck phooey. I offer this review based on personal experience. If I could, I'd return it for a full refund. Here's why.

The visual entertainment started on Wednesday when I thought there was a bug flying near my face. There was no bug, and thankfully there were no visual hallucinations either. Instead, I realized my left eye had developed a new feature! A string! Not in my eye like I could pull it out with a tissue or something; I mean INSIDE my eye, floating around just to the left of dead center. Now, when it's dark in the room, I can't really see it. But most of my waking hours are when it's light. Heavy sigh. 

But wait! There's more! 

Along with the string, I also have my own personal meteor shower happening. Little shooting stars leaving red trails, zipping upward instead of falling. When it's light, I can't really see them. But when it's dark, I've got a light show. 

So either way, I can't really win. I called my primary on Thursday, who told me to go promptly to the optometrist. I got in to Pollack Eye Care today. 

First they checked my glasses prescription, and then my eyes were numbed so my eye pressure could be assessed. That was followed by dilatating drops. Fun stuff. Sitting in that chair with the world’s brightest light shining into my eyeball was about as comfortable as staring into the sun, but at least I got answers.

The "string" is actually a floater, a tiny bit of collagen suspended in the vitreous. Apparently, they're a "natural part of the aging process," according to Dr. Pollack. They are especially common in people who are near-sighted. Which would be...drumroll please...me. They are harmless, but endlessly annoying. 

The meteor shower, on the other hand, is more concerning. As we age, the vitreous can get sticky and tug on the retina, which causes those flashes and streaks of light. The real worry here is a retinal tear, which would look like a curtain coming down over my eye. If that happens, it's straight to the ER. And by the way, disposable sunglasses are available at the front desk.

Lovely. 

Of course, I forgot the sunglasses, stepped outside, and IMMEDIATELY knew why sunglasses were offered. 

All in all, it was definitely a learning experience. All things considered, though, I'd rather be playing Monopoly.

August Snow by Stephan Mack Jones

True justice never plays by the rules.

Neither does August Snow.

If Chandler and Elmore Leonard had a book baby and raised it in Detroit, August Snow would be it. Our man August is a former cop who blew the whistle on corruption and paid the price. Now he’s back in his old neighborhood, Mexicantown, trying to rebuild homes and his life when trouble comes knocking.

This is noir with a shot of tequila: gritty, fast, and just the right amount of dark humor. Right up my alley. Snow isn’t your squeaky-clean hero; he’s the kind of guy you want watching your back, though maybe not your liquor cabinet. Think of him as a Mexican Jack Reacher only with more roots, more heart, and the same bone-deep need for justice, even if it means ignoring the law.

I like that the novel is set in Detroit. It’s not just the backdrop. It’s alive, a character in its own right with history, scars, and soul. I’ve always thought of Detroit as the ultimate blue-collar town, the heartbeat of America with its auto workers and grit. That same stubborn determination bleeds into every page, making it the perfect stage for Snow’s brand of rough justice.

I also like that Snow doesn’t just talk about loyalty. He lives it. He hires a former drug dealer to do honest work, helps a neighbor with nothing rebuild his life, and pours his lawsuit winnings (from taking down the corrupt system that ousted him) straight back into his community. He’s a good guy, but not a saint, which makes him the kind of hero I enjoy reading.

If this ever makes it to the screen, I’m voting Keanu Reeves for August Snow. He’s gritty, he’s caring, and with a little Latino edge added, he’d carry the role with weight and dignity.

August Snow is muscle and heart rolled into one, with a city that refuses to be ignored and a hero who proves true justice never plays by the rules. I’ll definitely be back for more in this series.

Blood Lines by Lynn Lipinski

Everyone has a secret, 

and most of them aren’t very good at hiding it.

I picked up Blood Lines by Lynn Lipinski for my 50 States Challenge (Oklahoma). This book is equal parts family drama, crime investigation, and “what the fuzzy kitty is really going on with these people?”

Our main character is Zane. He’s an alcoholic, white-knuckling his way through sobriety. In the space of 24 hours, he gets fired from his job, loses his sobriety, loses his mother in a house fire, realizes he is now the only one his teenage sister has left, and  becomes the main person of interest for setting the fire that killed his mother. Then life throws his estranged father into the mix. Spoiler: Dad isn’t exactly the guy you’d want to bring home to Thanksgiving dinner. Zane’s loyalty to family is admirable, but it also blinds him to what’s really happening. Still, I appreciated how his growth felt gradual and realistic. Maturity rarely comes overnight, especially when addiction is part of the struggle.

For me, the family drama was the star here. Sure, the crime investigation was compelling, but I never believed Zane was guilty. That would have made it a really short book. The question for me was always “who actually did it?” I never saw the reveal coming. Everyone in this story was tripping over their own skeletons, which made Zane’s search for truth that much harder.

The Tulsa setting was another highlight. Lipinski nails the feel of a tight community where everyone knows something but not everyone is willing to talk. You’ve got the gossipers, the church-goers, the crooks, and the ones just trying to stay out of the mess. Basically, small-town life in a nutshell.

It dragged a little in places. But once Jeremiah stepped into the spotlight, things really picked up, and the last third flew. 

The title Blood Lines works on so many levels, family ties, addiction, crime... but for me, the family piece hit hardest. At the end of the day, Zane just wanted to know who he was. Don’t we all?

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

Some families argue about politics. 

The Day family argues about who survived the massacre.

I picked up this book to fill Kansas in my 50 States Challenge. What I got instead was a memo that Gillian Flynn doesn’t write psychological thrillers. She writes psychological wrecking balls. To say this book is a psychological thriller is an understatement. It’s the kind of story I should have started on a Saturday so I didn’t have to drag myself through work the next day running on three hours of sleep.

The alternating timelines made the book twistier, but it needed to be that way. We discover the past as Libby discovers it in the present, and that parallel unraveling works beautifully. We got to see assumptions being made that were way off base but deeply affected the people they involved. I actually trusted Libby as a narrator, even though she’s deeply flawed. Seeing the story through her eyes gave the whole thing a warped but fascinating perspective.

As for the big question: Evil: born or nurtured? Personally, I lean toward nurtured, though I know some people really are born without a conscience. The reveal completely blindsided me. You’d think after all the murder mysteries I’ve devoured, I’d know better than to assume the killer had to be a man. Gender bias much? <facepalm>

Flynn does a brilliant job weaving in the unreliability of memory. Trauma distorts everything, and Libby’s faulty or missing memories made perfect sense given how disturbing her past is and what she lived through. And speaking of disturbing, let’s talk about the Kill Club. Between Libby’s apathy and their obsessive energy, I honestly found the Kill Club more unsettling. That’s some hobby to have. Why can't we all just...crochet?

Dark Places is haunting, twisty, and unsettling in all the right ways. Flynn doesn’t let you look away, and she doesn’t let you get comfortable, either. Ten out of five stars. 

10th Anniversary by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro

James Patterson and Maxine Paetro deliver another winner with 10th Anniversary. Lindsay Boxer is back, this time balancing a heartbreaking missing-girl case, courtroom fireworks, and the chaos of new motherhood. The pace is relentless, the Women’s Murder Club is as sharp as ever, and I found myself flipping pages way past bedtime. This one hits all the right thriller notes while still giving you those personal moments that make the series shine.

The Big Island Killer by R. Barri Flowers

 

I picked this one purely for the setting. Hawaii had to be covered for my 50 States challenge, and the title fit the bill. The good news is the scenery descriptions were lovely; I could almost feel the trade winds and smell the plumeria. The bad news was everything else.

This was a Harlequin suspense, which basically means you can set your watch by the plot: Boy meets girl. Girl gets into trouble. Boy gallops in on his trusty steed (well, maybe a Jeep Wrangler this time). Cue murders, a lovers’ spat, a couple of sex scenes, and voilà! Happily ever after.

The suspense didn’t hook me, the romance didn’t either, and the characters felt about as deep as a puddle in the tropics. I should have known as soon as I saw the cover on the ebook. I’m much more murder-and-mayhem than flowers-and-rainbows.

The Sharp County Slasher by Andrew Alman

Cheap real estate, a creepy sheriff, and a body count. Honestly, Sharp County sounds like a bargain. 

The Sharp County Slasher by Andrew Alman is the kind of book that makes you wonder if law enforcement officers should come with background checks longer than a CVS receipt. The premise hooked me right away: murders happening in Sharp County, eerily copying Hilrey’s old killings. The copycat angle is definitely personal, but you don’t see how until the rug is pulled out from under you. (Looking at you, Joel. You sneaky devil.)

Hilrey is the heart of this book, and he’s not your average “serial killer.” He’s more of a Dexter type, knocking off child molesters and rapists, people I’d happily volunteer as tribute. Does that make him a good guy? Well, he thinks so. I think so. Killing bothers him, but he sees it as a duty. And honestly, if you’re definitely guilty, then it’s lights out. Why waste tax dollars feeding a waste of skin?

The rural Arkansas setting makes it perfect: bodies go undiscovered for years, secrets rot in the silence, and the cornfields don’t ask questions. Every character was hiding something, and the reveals kept me flipping pages faster and faster until the end.

If you like dark crime thrillers with a “what would you do?” moral question baked in, this one’s a five-star ride. And yes, if I lived in Sharp County, I’d stay. Because cheap real estate, and nobody wants to murder old ladies.

Worth Dying For by Lee Child (Reacher #15)

"Buy 10, sell 9." If that line doesn’t make your stomach turn, congratulations. You’re probably a Duncan.

After a streak of books that didn’t quite hit the mark, I turned to my favorite author, Lee Child. I needed a solid five-star read, and Worth Dying For was worth the wait. Child is a master at grabbing attention right from the first paragraph. This one opens with a sniper waiting for Reacher...just in case. Hooked Immediately.

As always, trouble finds Reacher. It starts with a bloody nose, a drunk doctor, and a stubborn patient Reacher refuses to let slip through the cracks. From there, things escalate fast.

Enter the Duncan clan: Human traffickers who’ve been terrorizing a Nebraska farming community for 25 years. They’re bullies, parasites, and absolute wastes of oxygen. Their business motto, “Buy 10, sell 9”, disgusted me to my core. And you better believe Reacher dishes out the only kind of justice worth having in this situation. His own.

The town had stayed silent under the Duncans’ thumb because of raw, paralyzing fear: Fear for their families, their lives, and the belief that keeping their heads down was the only way to survive. But every tyranny has its breaking point, and here it came with the discovery of a missing child’s body. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The Nebraska setting made the story. With no hospital or police for miles, the town was isolated and vulnerable, the perfect breeding ground for corruption. In a city, this story would have unfolded differently. Help would be seconds away, people would ask pointed questions, and the Duncans would probably not have had 25 years of unchecked power.

What I admire most is Reacher’s code. He’s relentless about protecting the innocent and punishing evil, saving fictional taxpayers millions in court costs and prison fees along the way. In a place where corruption runs deep, even within law enforcement, his brand of justice is exactly what’s needed.

As for me, I’d love to say I’d have stood up to the Duncans early on. But let’s be honest. I’d probably have just moved away. Easier than getting my butt handed to me for doing the right thing.

Run Rose Run by Dolly Parton and James Patterson

Dolly may know how to write a hit song, but suspense? Let’s just say the chorus came in louder than the thriller.

We open Run, Rose, Run with AnnieLee jumping off a hotel balcony. Heart-stopping opening, if I may say so myself. So we were off to a promising start. But then we rewind eleven months, and instead of a high-speed Patterson chase, we settle into the rhinestone-and-grit streets of Nashville. From the jump, I knew AnnieLee was running from something; I just didn’t know who or what. But believing in these characters was another story.

Ruthanna, a country legend, taking a total stranger into her home without a blink? Um, no. Ethan putting his entire music career on hold to play chauffeur for AnnieLee? Double no. And AnnieLee, desperate to be a Nashville star, yet somehow keeping her entire hometown in the dark? That’s not ambition; that’s a masterclass in cognitive dissonance.

This book never went full-throttle Patterson like I expected. Instead, it wandered through honky-tonk bars and recording studios, often focusing more on the music scene than the actual suspense of who was chasing AnnieLee and why. Dolly’s fingerprints were all over this one. The Nashville setting seemed authentic, the music industry details rang true, and the trauma/survival themes worked. But the thriller elements...well, let’s just say they were background vocals at best.

As a novel, it’s a solid 4 out of 5: Nice story, memorable characters, and a multimedia bonus (the companion album was released with it). As a thriller, though, don’t expect Patterson’s usual page-burner. This is Dolly’s show, with Patterson strumming backup.