Wednesday, March 16, 2011
New York Times Bestselling Author Lisa Scottoline is one of my favorite writers whose legal thrillers are page turners. But I was recently surprised to learn she’s also a very funny lady.
In “My Nest Isn’t Empty, It Just has More Closet Space,” co-authored with her daughter, Francesca Scottoline Serritella, they unabashedly spill family secrets. Most readers will likely shake their heads saying, “Yep, been there, done that.” Inspired by their weekly “Chick Lit” column in The Philadelphia Inquirer, which I intend to check out as soon as possible, “My Nest . . .” is a quick and funny read that will have you laughing until the last page.
Here are two hilarious passages from their book. The first is from “Nutty,” in which Lisa talks about, what else, nuts. Pistachios to be specific.
Plus nowadays we know the red dye on pistachios causes cancer, or at least, a lifetime of celibacy, so we eat the normal brown kind. They’re meaty and delicious, and many of them come out of the bag part way open, which is helpful. Occasionally you run across a closed pistachio, and if you do, here’s my advice:
There’s nothing for you there.
Don’t even try to open a closed pistachio. Tenacity doesn’t begin to describe these hardy few. You could use a clam shucker, a blowtorch, or a nuclear weapon, but in the end, the closed pistachio will defeat you.
Instead, calm down and have an almond. It will take your mind off the closed pistachio, and it’s always easy to crack, though it’s disappointingly healthy. Walnuts fall into the same category. It’s no fun to be addicted to something that’s good for you.
Now don't tell me you haven't tried to open at least one closed pistachio. I readily admit I've tried to do this and Lisa's right. It isn't going to happen.
The second passage is from “Killer Apps” in which she describes her issues with appliances, specifically her dishwasher because her dishes aren’t getting clean.
I give up and call the appliance guy. He examines the dishwasher, then asks, “Do you use a drying agent?”
“A what?” Evidently not.
He points to a mysterious hole in the dishwasher door. “That’s what this is for. You put the drying agent in here. It will prevent the buildup from the water.
Now they tell me. “Why didn’t I know about drying agents?”
“It’s in the owner’s manual. Did you read it?”
“Does it have a car chase?”
He doesn’t answer.
He adds, “You can buy a drying agent in any grocery store, and you should also pick up a dishwasher cleaning agent.”
I try to follow. “My dishwasher needs to be cleaned?”
“But isn’t it supposed to wash things?”
“So why doesn’t it just wash itself?”
He gathers my question is rhetorical, which it isn’t, and I walk him to the door cranky. I have to buy dishwashing powder, a drying agent, and a dishwashing washing agent – all to clean seven dishes? What does the dishwasher do to earn its keep? If you ask me, somebody’s slacking and his name rhymes with Kitchen Aid.
To pique your interest even more, check out the chapter entitled, “Name Game.” You’ll also love her pet names for her ex-husbands. Here’s a hint: they’re named after two characters from a Dr. Seuss book.