Daughter Francesca Archives – Page 2 of 2

Classic Column: Technology Hag

March 1, 2026

By Lisa Scottoline

I’m not old, but I’m getting older.

I know this because of technology.

Meanwhile, where do I even begin with the story?

Let’s start with the time a few months ago, when I trip over a dog gate, go flying, and can’t walk.

I’ve been hobbling around since then.

Seriously, I’m bent over like the old witch in Snow White. Plus I have stringy gray hair and a big nose.

All I need is the carbuncle.

Oh, wait.

Never mind.

Check.

But not the point herein.

I hobble around for about three weeks, barely able to straighten up, much less sit or drive, and so I finally get my butt to an orthopedist, who takes an MRI and tells me that I have a labral tear in my hip.

At first I thought I heard him wrong.

I didn’t think my labral was in my hip.

I got it mixed up with another body part, which should give you an idea of how good I was at sex.

Kind of not very.

But honestly, who cares anyway?

I’m great at writing!

Anyway, it turns out that a labral tear is a tear in the ligament that’s somewhere in your hip joint, and when I leave the doctor’s office, he gives me a DVD of my MRI.

Like a party favor for the middle-aged.

I take it home, and the first thing I want to do is look at my MRI.

Which is when I realized that I don’t have a DVD player in any of my computers.

What?

I don’t even know when that happened.

I seem to remember that I got new computers a year or so ago, because I like to have a nice big screen. And I don’t mind spending the money, because all I do all day is stare at a computer, and the least I can do is have a nice one. But I never really noticed that they didn’t have a slot for a DVD player.

So I went over to my big TV, figuring that I could watch my MRI on TV, like a medical reality show, maybe one called, YOUR LABRAL ISN’T WHAT YOU THINK IT IS

I managed to locate my DVD player underneath the TV, but it needed to be hooked up, since I am addicted to Netflix and haven’t watched a real DVD in a long time. It took me a full hour of struggling to hook it up, and even then, I couldn’t get it to work.

Which is when it struck me.

I am so ancient that I have lived through several stages of technology, like the Jurassic and Pleistocene era of dinosaurs.

I remember when there were VHS tapes because I still have them.

I remember when there were camcorders because I filmed Francesca when she was a baby, plus static scenes of my feet, with me saying, “Is this thing on or off?”

Now I have lived through DVDs, which sucks, because I have an entire set of operas in DVD that I was saving to watch in my retirement, and by the time I retire, operas will be transported telepathically into your brain.

Plus I paid to have those camcorder tapes of Francesca transferred onto DVD’s, and now there’s no such thing as DVD players.

So you’re getting a fairly complete picture of what life is like as me, which I’m hoping is like life as you, too.

Who here remembers actual records?

I do.

Who remembers little 33’s?

I do.

Who remembers cassette tapes?

I do.

How about trying to rewind them and having them unspool out of the slot like brown tinsel?

I know. Me too.

So there you have it. Many of us live a life measured in obsolete technological stages.

It’s enough to make your hip hurt.

Post-Holidaze

January 11, 2026January 11, 2026

By Lisa Scottoline

We have our phones with us all the time, but here’s the thing:

You can’t call anybody.

Or you can, but they won’t answer.

I say this because I tried to call my bank the other day, but no one picked up. It rang and rang.

Then I called my car dealership, and the same thing happened.

I’m feeling like no one answers the phone anymore.

And if you look on a website to see how to call them on the phone, there won’t be any number.

They used to say Contact Us, but they lied.

I remember when you could call a company and somebody would pick up the phone. It might not be a person, but it would be a message machine with options one through 7. You’d pick one, wait while music played, then a message would come on and say, “Your call is important to us. Please wait.”

Now, the jig is up.

They’re not even bothering with a mechanical message.

You would think that they could put on a fake voice to tell me how much I matter.

This would be my second marriage in a nutshell.

To return to point, the one bright spot was on Christmas Eve.

No, not that bright spot.

We’re not talking the Star-of-Bethlehem bright.

It was Michael’s.

Yes, the crafts store.

Actually to call Michael’s a craft store is to sell it short. Michael’s sells decorations, art supplies, glue, picture frames, and glittery stuff that you didn’t think you needed until you saw it in its vast store. Also there are rows of candy bars, and I always treat myself to a Snickers.

In our family, the holidays mean a trip to Michael’s to get stuff for the tree, and we even bring the two dogs. We all had a great time there, and I treated myself to a Snickers. Daughter Francesca is our tree designer and she picked out the items we needed, among them a spray can of fake snow.

When you spray a tree with fake snow, it’s called flocking.

Who knew?

You have to hang sheets on the walls so you don’t have an interior blizzard.

Otherwise you’re flocked.

Anyway when we got home it turned out that we’d left a bag on the counter.

This is the problem when you go shopping during the holidays with two dogs. You get distracted by the holidays and the dogs.

Okay, you get distracted by the Snickers, but that’s neither here nor there.

So I called Michael’s.

Guess what happened:

They answered!

A human being!

Wow! I felt like I had entered a portal to an alternative universe or maybe the 1950s. I actually said, “You answered!”

And the man said, “Of course.”

So I told him, “Do you realize that no one answers the phone anymore?”

“I know, but here at Michael’s, we always answer the phone.”

And I thought, I might be in love with you.

But I didn’t say that.

And the next thing that happened was even greater, because he said he would look for our bag, which he actually did and then called me back because he could not find it. So I went to the store anyway to rebuy the missing stuff and Michael’s didn’t even charge me twice. They just swapped it out for the stuff that I left behind in my Snickers haze.

And so on Christmas Eve, my faith in corporate America was restored.

A miracle!

Naughty or Nice?

December 21, 2025

By Lisa Scottoline

It’s the time of year when it we find out whether you’ve been bad or good.

Unfortunately, my little puppy Eve has been Evil.

She’s a year old now, so her personality has shown itself, and it ain’t pretty.

Simply put, she’s an total alpha female.

Or more accurately, a boss bitch.

Let’s begin with the fact that she doesn’t like to walk.

In fact, she doesn’t like to leave the couch.

As soon as I get the leash, she throws herself on the ground and refuses to move.

With one exception.

If I ask, “Wanna go in the car?” Then she jumps off the couch and runs over for her leash.

As in, she knows car.

She wants to Uber around the block.

I think a sedan chair would work, too.

She basically doesn’t want her feet to touch the ground.

What woman does?

Don’t worry, there’s nothing physically wrong with her. I took her to the vet, and the diagnosis is that she’s a princess.

And that’s not all.

She doesn’t eat out of a bowl.

At first I thought the problem was her food, so I did the whole thing where you order various overpriced ipsy-pipsy dog meals they ship to you, which involves defrosting, cleaning dishes, and special containers.

But she still didn’t eat.

Then one day I happened to drop some kibble on the floor and she started eating.

Which is when I realized that she likes to eat off the floor.

Now, I have to throw her kibble on the kitchen floor to get her to eat.

This isn’t a problem except that she leaves a fine grit of chicken byproducts.

After every meal, I Dirt-Devil the floor.

Because of my dirty devil.

You haven’t lived until you’ve walked in bare feet and ended up with Purina Pro Plan between your toes.

And if your feet are as dry as mine, you’ll end up with kibble in your heel cracks, which guarantees you’ll be single forever.

The other thing about Eve is that she does not play well with others.

I took her to puppy obedience school, and she graduated, but she’s socially awkward. If she sees another dog on a walk, she barks nonstop at them, which is her way saying hello.

It never works.

Other dogs avoid her.

Yesterday she scared off a German Shepherd.

Or gave him a headache.

As far as people go, she’s picky. She loves Daughter Francesca, me, and a few other of my girlfriends, but she can’t be bothered with strangers we meet. She lets them pet her, but she’ll stand there.

She doesn’t wag her tail.

She checks her watch.

She’s rude.

And it’s awkward.

But randomly, she likes workmen.

Any carpenter, electrician, or plumber who comes over, she flirts like crazy.

Who doesn’t love a man in uniform?

She sees that jumpsuit and she jumps.

Yesterday I had a burglar alarm guy over, and Eve climbed into his lap and wouldn’t move.

Meanwhile she won’t sit on my lap.

She’s supposed to be a lap dog, but evidently it has to be a lap with benefits.

So when it comes to the question whether Eve is Naughty or Nice, I guess I have to say Naughty.

But I love her anyway, which if you ask me, is the point of the holiday season.

Let’s not get all judgy.

There’s too much of that going around lately, and we all need a little more acceptance.

Understanding, even forgiveness.

I love Eve for the little dog she turned out to be.

And that’s Nice.

Happy Holidays!

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