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.
Mother Mary never forgets anything. Take the Case of the Crossword Puzzle Cookie Jar.
Our story begins when I see an ad for a cookie jar in the newspaper. It's a square, white jar with a real crossword puzzle on each of the four sides, and it has a special pen that you use to fill in the blanks. Plus, it comes with heart-shaped cookies that I don't have to bake myself.
I know I'm supposed to become my mother, but I'm actually becoming my father.
At least I thought of him recently, when I checked the mileage on my car. I'm at 94,272, and I've watched it inch up from 94,109 and before that, 93,820. I check my mileage more often than I check my weight, and that's saying something. On a long trip, I actually watch my mileage like it's a movie with George Clooney.
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I'm not one to hold a grudge. On the contrary. I don't merely hold a grudge - I wave my grudge proudly. I hoist it like the Statue of Liberty with her torch. I love my grudges.
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Mother Mary has a new job that benefits us all. Before I reveal it, let me explain that, when I was growing up, Mom and Pop Scottoline weren't big readers. In fact, there was one book in our house. Guess what it was. The Bible, you say?
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One of the great things about getting older is that you're tired enough to fall asleep, all the time. Or maybe it's that you realize you're not missing anything if you nod off. You know that it will all be there when you wake up, for good or ill. This might be called perspective.
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I'm not sure when my car became my house, but I think it happened somewhere near Pittsburgh. I've been driving around for a book tour, so I've been on the road for about four weeks. And you know what?
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You may have heard about the bra that stopped a bullet. It happened in Detroit, where a woman heard a break-in at her neighbor's house, went to the window, and a bad guy fired at her. The bullet shattered the glass, but was deflected by the underwire in her bra.
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It's Mother's Day, so this is a good time to address the question of Hallmark holidays. Bottom line, I'm in favor.
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The Scottolines are flying everywhere, like protons spinning crazily out of control. I may be wrong on the science, but I think this is why we just had a familial nuclear explosion.
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As you know, this month I am on tour for my new book, "Look Again," so I asked daughter Francesca to help me out with the column, among other things.
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Lisa Scottoline's "Chick Wit" does not appear this week.
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So I'm in New York, visiting daughter Francesca for the weekend, which is just the thing to remind you that your child is more adult than you.
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