Lisa Scottoline writes a column, Chick Wit, for The Sunday Inquirer's Image section. She.is a New York Times best-selling author of 14 novels, all set in the Philadelphia area, and a former trial lawyer and law clerk. Winner of the Edgar Award for suspense writing, Scottoline teaches a course called "Justice and Fiction" at the University of Pennsylvania Law School, her alma mater. She is a Philadelphia native who lives in Chester County with her daughter and four dogs.
I was just asked out on a date.
By Elvis.
For real, kind of. Or, rather, by an Elvis impersonator.
I know it's late to be talking about Christmas, but what happened to me that day applies to any holiday, especially Valentine's Day, which is around the corner. So let me tell you about the great gift I got for Christmas, and it's one that didn't come with a bow.
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As you know, this column is usually written by Lisa Scottoline. I'm her daughter and I contribute from time to time, offering a different perspective. Because even though we're both single women, working as writers, sometimes dating, most times hanging with dogs, blond, blue-eyed, size 8 shoe, we are not the same person . . . right? Right! Two entirely different people.
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I'm in love. With my big TV. It's Big Love. My big TV takes up the entire family room, but that's one of its many charms. True, we're in the early stages of our romance, when I still find its faults adorable. The minute it starts sucking its teeth, I'm outta here.
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More home-repair drama from which I learn a Valuable Life Lesson. Observe. You may remember that for Christmas, I got my house a big TV. It's in the family room, where it doubles as a room divider, if not the Great Wall of China. The TV begins our saga, because it requires rewiring that sends an electrician down to my basement, and when he comes back upstairs, he asks:
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This week, daughter Francesca spills family secrets. For a little girl, watching her mother get ready for a night out is an education. I remember being mesmerized as my mother would line her eyes to a feline contour, or wrap her curly hair around a round brush and, with a wave of her magic hair-dryer, pull
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Time for my second annual UnResolutions column. If you don't remember how this goes, I'm trying to change the way everybody in the world does things.
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I'm back from the book tour for Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog, and thanks so much to all of you who came to a signing. To those of you who didn't, here's the recap:
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The holidays are coming, and I have an annual tradition of buying the house a Christmas present. For example, last year I bought the house a puppy.
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I thought I'd let daughter Francesca fill in today, because she's having more holiday fun than I am.
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Lisa Scottoline's "Chick Wit" column does not appear today. She is on book tour for "Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog," a compilation of her columns. For book-tour appearances, go to www.scottoline.com.
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This Thanksgiving, I'm pimping out my family. As you may know, my book of these columns is titled Why My Third Husband Will Be A Dog: The Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary Woman, and it will be published on Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving. I'll be doing a short tour for the book, and thought it would be a great idea to get Mother Mary to come along to a few signings, because she gets more fan mail than I do.
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