I am obsessed with Murder, She Wrote, but it isn’t the show so much as the main character, Jessica Fletcher, that keeps me hooked. Okay, I like mysteries, but these mysteries are so easy to solve that one can hardly think them mysterious–convoluted, sometimes, mysterious, no. Jessica Fletcher is why I love Murder, She Wrote. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, she’s my James Bond. Where some folks watch James Bond to learn how to be a man–or at least to learn how to be the kind of man they wish to be, I watch Jessica Fletcher because she’s the kind of lady I’d like to be–dress-sense aside.

She’s brilliant. She’s a former teacher. She’s strong and brave–seriously, that women doesn’t let ANYONE push her around in any way. She brooks absolutely no bullying. Whether she’s throwing a tea party or managing a boxer, she always knows what’s up. Moreover, she may get angry–boiling-ly so–but she never ever loses her cool. She isn’t out to make anyone look bad or put anyone down, but she takes no crap and she never lies, even to spare feelings, she just tells the truth with an amazing amount of tact, dignity, and grace. That is precisely the kind of woman I’d like to be. And, really, I don’t so much mind her dress sense–my favorite style of dress is probably a combination of Talbots and Lucille Ball from the early days of I Love Lucy anyway.

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