Yes! A video Thank you Bank Square Books in Mystic for carrying my latest and then some! Support your local, independent book seller!
Uncle Neddy’s Funeral by L.M. Pampuro
Genre: Contemporary, Mystery/Suspense
Length: Full (450 pgs)
Rated: 4.5 stars
Review by Snapdragon
Thank you to Long and Short Reviews for the 4.5/5 Stars for Uncle Neddy’s Funeral. You may read the entire review by clicking here.
You may have noticed in Uncle Neddy’s Funeral thank you, I thank The Harmony Café for good food and vibe. I really love this place.
I am sitting in the corner, drinking a house-made chai tea, and loving life. The owner shared a slice of carrot cheesecake with me. I am in heaven. Thin carrot cake crust topped with cinnamon-nutmeg flavored cheese. Just wow!
(Not that you need to know this but I also ate half of a house-made veggie burger on homemade bread with sweet potatoes. It is called the Ricardo…) As summer continues I have fed my muse both physically with food and metaphorically with live music. This seems to be working as something new emerges.
Uncle Neddy is actually going on tour, virtual, yet a tour just the same. Starting next week, via this blog, you’ll have the opportunity to visit other blogs and register to win an Amazon gift card.
If you are in the central Connecticut area and a Chai tea fan, stop by The Harmony Café on Main Street in Middletown. You may see me banging on my laptop in the corner.
I will be the person with the half eaten sandwich and finished dessert.
I really hate to tempt fate here yet for the last week or so I have experienced what can only be described as a pure state of bliss. I can’t explain the smiles at nothing, the occasional break into song (Banana Pancake song by Jack Johnson in case you were wondering), or dancing in my kitchen more than normal.
This sensational feeling started right after Uncle Neddy’s released. I am almost ashamed to admit this is my first creative work since. I’ve tried, mind you, yet my state of being isn’t cooperating.
It had to be those damn mountains. For anyone out there who hasn’t experienced the beauty of The Continental Divide, put it on your bucket list NOW! Go in at Estes Park, Colorado and follow the road up. If you are lucky, though I haven’t been during all five of my trips, the road will connect around and take you to Grand Lake. I have never seen Grand Lake outside of photographs, the view stunning! As is the ride up. Beyond description (so I included a photo) … simply amazing!
A truly humbling experience. I can’t imagine anyone looking up and not getting a feeling of awe.
When I returned to sea level, the salt filled air greeted me with a smack to my senses like Frank’s Red Hot on egg whites; very familiar yet unique each experience. Maybe when the Rocky Mountain high wears off, my creative self will return, hopefully leaving the bad clichés behind…
Stay tuned for upcoming Blog Tour dates, fabulous prizes (Amazon gift certificates & books), along with the occasional Facebook Live blog. Summer 2017 Tour starts soon!
As promised, here is the first chapter, or two, of my new book Uncle Neddy’s Funeral, available now by clicking here. I hope you enjoy!
Uncle Neddy’s Funeral
Neddy took in a deep breath of air. A violent cough followed. Surrounded by darkness, he had zero perception, which, for him, was fortunate. His arms touched the silky sides, as did his legs. He tried stretching his feet to the end. It figured, where he didn’t need it or couldn’t use it, he had the space. His breath bounced back from the top. He could smell mama’s tomato sauce from breakfast. Leftover gnocchi and eggs made the perfect meal to get him through the day. With each exhale his heart skipped.
About an hour ago, the air became lighter, best he could tell. The stench had to be from his exhales. He tried not to smell, breathe. Leave it to Joe and Victor to come up with a plan that involved a disgusting odor. Those two could fill a room after one of mama’s meals. Not that mama’s meals were gassy, it’s just those two needed no incentives to let one loose. Neddy’s laughter broke into a coughing fit.
“Ah, minor inconvenience,” he said. In the distance, he could hear hushed voices yet couldn’t make out the conversation. The voices grew louder as Neddy assumed, people came closer.
“Be careful with this one,” Victor’s brogue came through clearly.
“Why boss,” another voice spoke. “Ya think he can feel anything?” Laughter filled the room. Neddy strained to hear the paused conversation. A couple of awkward coughs filled the space.
“Just be careful,” Ah, Victor used his I am in charge voice. Neddy knew the tone. His crew isn’t following directions. Neddy smirked. “Think of this as precious cargo.” Footsteps followed, growing weaker by the clank.
“I think the boss is getting weird”
“In what way?”
“Well he’s worried about a corpse.” Neddy smiled. He curved his temptation to knock. As funny as he thought it would be to make whoever jump at the sound, he knew better. Victor Cuzzuto would kill him.
“Victor got his job. Our job is to move the sucker.”
“Well, if Victor had finished the last job we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”
“Not our problem.”
“When will the old guy retire…” Neddy banged into the side of the casket. His head bounced off the top.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed as he bit into his hand. The casket stopped moving.
“You hear something boss?”
“I ain’t heard nothing,” came a quick reply along with a jolt. “Let’s just finish this up. Place like this gives me the creeps.”
Part One: The Funeral
“Brothers and sisters, we have come to say good bye to our brother, Giuseppe Vittorio Vaffanculo.”
“For crying aloud did this guy even know Neddy?” Gia hissed in her sister’s ear. The middle child of the Vaffanculo relations, Gia sat with arms folded across her satin black dress, in her opinion, a beautiful garment wasted on a funeral. Her eyes volleyed between the crowded sanctuary and the man standing at the podium. Her younger sister by a year, Amelia, stared at the priest with intent. Her eyes tearing at the mention of her favorite uncle’s name.
“Giuseppe was an exceptional man: father, brother, son…” as the priest paused a moment Amelia glanced over at her ninety-year-old grandmother who sat playing with her false teeth. She nudged her sister in grandma’s direction. Grandma, dressed in traditional funeral black, included the customary laced veil, now thrown haphazardly over her head. Grandma Lena swished her teeth around her mouth, popped them through her lips, then caught the full set in her hand. Not a bit of spit followed. Without missing a beat she’d place the choppers back in to start again.
“Oh, this is going to be entertaining,” Gia smirked.
“Giuseppe was a fine man who loved his wife…”
“Which is he referring to?” Amelia giggled.
“…Adored his children…”
“Only those he knew about…” without missing a beat Gia responded.
“…And was a wonderful son…” a “humpf” came from the direction of their grandmother. The girls watched their mother squat walk towards grandma. She knelt in front of her, rubs the old lady’s arm, as she whispered something in her ear. Grandma turned around and flicked her wrist in her daughter-in-law’s direction. The girls’ eyes grew wide.
“We would get slapped,” Gia pointed out to a nodding Amelia. Their mother just shrugged stood fully erect, walked back to her seat. Her face expressionless.
As the priest continued to extoll virtues her uncle never possessed, Gia looked around the crowded funeral home. Bright purple flower arrangements lined the wall then veered around the back of the casket. Family and friends sat, stood, and waited in the adjacent rooms, spilling outdoors under the canvass walkways to pay respects. She knew most of the folks around here all her life, some by reputation, most by some sort of relation.
“Giuseppe was a pillar in the community. He had a big heart…”
“Are you sure he’s talking about Uncle Neddy?” Amelia said.
“I don’t think this one had met him. He’s new. Remember, straight off the boat from the mothership,” The priest appeared to be moving around the alter to avoid stepping in something.
“Don’t you mean Mother Land?”
“Ship…Land…Tomato…Tomato… What is the difference? The guy knows nothing about our family or the person he is talking about.” Gia moved her right hand as she spoke, the same mannerism her mother and grandma used.
“Well he knows some stuff…”
“Yeah, what is on the script. Aunt Neddy the fourth wrote it up or do you think she’d let the fifth to be do the eulogy?”
“I think she’d rather be reading the fifth to be’s eulogy.” As both girls began to snicker Gia glanced up in to their mother’s warning glare. In silence Angela Victorio Cuzzuto Vaffanculo held up one finger. Gia nudged her sister. She gave a head nod towards their mother. Elegantly she raised a second finger. Her dark blue eyes never wavered.
Both Gia and Amelia gave a slight nod, leaned back in their chairs. Legs crossed at the knees they mirrored each other’s worried glances, unconsciously tapping their bottom foot. Angela relaxed a little in her chair. To her left, her husband Joe, snored quietly. Angela poked his arm. He would jump a little, smile at her, only to close his eyes again.
He held her left hand in his. Every so often she would feel a gentle squeeze. Ah, my Joseph, he works so hard at the restaurant. Still cleaning up his brother’s messes. She thought, so he’s napping. He is not disrespectful. It’s his brother’s funeral not mine. He’s better not nap at my funeral. A laugh escapes from her lips. Who am I kidding. I will bury him first. Here, a little nap hurts no one. Uhg – look at the line – I’m sure half are here because they love Neddy, the others want to make sure he’s dead. Her lips turned up into a discreet smile. Iksch – This is all good. All these people here. This will help us with our situation. I wonder how many know? She glances at her mother-in-law who now moved from playing with her teeth to eating what looks like a pignoli cookie. Now where did those cookies come from?
Crumbs float down the old lady’s face. Angela nudged a tissue into Enzo’s hand. She pointed towards the older lady. “Oh, for crying aloud,” he proceeded to float down the row to the matriarch’s side, causing as little commotion as possible.
“Mrs. V, you need to stop with the cookies,” he reprimanded in a hushed voice the people in the back of the room could hear.
“I’m ninety years old…”
“You are not ninety, you are only eighty-five.”
“The stunad caused me so much stress I aged five years.” Enzo bit the inside of his cheek yet the grin across his face gave him away.
“I understand, but still, it is disrespectful to be chowing down at Neddy’s…”
“What’s disrespectful is having this idiota talk about someone her never met!” As the word idiota came out of the old lady’s lips, all those in close vicinity did the sign of the cross. The gesture continued down the rows like the wave at a football game.
This is my original Waffles & Weed post that somehow got archived (read lost) and just appeared in my feed so I thought I’d share. Tomorrow I am hoping to share something bigger 🙂 Enjoy!
Okay. So, some of you are scratching your heads right now. No, this post is not about stoner munchie options.
This is about the happiest place on earth, at least to me. I took the day off to head up to the Green Mountains for a day of skiing. Gray, overcast sky. Snow flurries drifting down. Parking in a non-parking space because the rest were taken.
Around twenty-eight degrees at the base.
To me, an almost perfect ski day. There is something magical about spending time with Mother Nature. Yesterday I hiked with a friend up to a ridge overlooking I-91. In the distance clouds reflected on a body of water which sat in the middle of two hills.
I slid up the trail of rock and mud just to get a glimpse, before we glided down with hopes of not wrecking a knee or twisting an ankle. There is a quietness to this experience.
Today was different.
The purr of the ski lift, my hubby by my side, we shivered as the wind cut through the snow-covered trees. The top was fogged in yet about a third of the way down one could see across the valley. Ski trails gleamed off neighboring mountains.
Today required much more concentration to avoid the ice patches and unpredictable munchkins who fly passed with no fear. Yet this too is relaxing. The mountain air slaps my face. The snow almost burns any exposed skin.
Back in my twenties, I would ski by myself with my walk man blasting a Grateful Dead bootleg or maybe a mixed tape with some John Hiatt and Cream. Today I hear music in my head. Slow Turning keeps popping in and out as I concentrate on not falling. (We witnessed over a half-dozen sled rides and conditions were decent. We hope none are serious injuries.) It doesn’t matter if I am going down a black diamond (too icy for those today) or a blue or green trail, my focus is the same.
We all need to find spaces that make us happy. Live music, mountain air, and dancing pretty much does it for me. So, what is yours?
(Now I know gentle reader, you are wondering where the weed and waffles come in to play. Yesterday the sweet smell drifted in the distance as we hiked. Today the same scent mixed with the waffle shack’s residue at the base of the mountain. I could go and stereotype here yet I just found it funny and think that it makes a great band name. I would go see them!)