Vroom, Vroom

By Lisa Scottoline

It was a busy week, news-wise.

But there’s one story that didn’t make the headlines.

It was my birthday! And I had a great one!

Why?

Because I’m loving getting older.

First, I’m alive.

Like what number birthday was it?

Who cares?

Here’s all that matters:

It was Another Birthday!

Yay!

The second reason I love getting older is that I’ve lost my mind, but in a good way.

It all started with Netflix.

Like everybody, I love Netflix and I watch tons of shows, but somehow I stumbled onto Drive to Survive. If you’re not familiar, it’s real-life series about Formula One race-car drivers, and the bottom line is they’re hot drivers who drive even hotter cars.

Maybe in my younger days I would’ve watched the guys.

But I found myself looking at cars.

Their bodies.

Their muscularity.

Their passion.

The cars, mind you.

And before I go further, I have to tell you that I am the world’s slowest driver.

I not only drive in the slow lane, I live there.

I go seventy only if I’m on the Pennsylvania Turnpike and there’s a big truck behind me, flashing lights and threatening to kill me.

Especially if it has big teeth on the grille.

I love truckers, but really, with the teeth?

Do you need to scare us more than we already are?

Sometimes I see truck grilles that have a teddy bear tied to the front.

Those guys, I love.

Except sometimes it looks like the teddy bear is being throttled.

Anyway, you get the idea, I’m a timid driver.

It’s the only thing I’m timid at in my life, almost. I’ve grown into a mouthy broad and since I run my own company, I’ve learned to try to get what I want.

It’s not easy, and the world will try and stop you.

But as soon as I realized that, I stopped stopping myself.

In other words, I started not stopping myself.

If you follow.

So bottom line, I don’t obey and I try to get what I want.

This is probably why I’m divorced twice, but the good news is I had Another Birthday, I’m happier than ever, and I bought a sports car.

Yes, that was my birthday present to myself.

It has only two seats because I’m only one person. I was tired of driving around in a sedan that felt like an empty warehouse.

That’s the practical reason.

The real reason is I got excited about sports cars from Netflix and then I saw one in a dealership window and I bought it.

It’s also a convertible, and I’ve never driven a convertible in my life.

My roots are too gray for a convertible.

I was too shy to lower the top, then one time I was on the phone with Daughter Francesca, who loves her ancient VW convertible, and she said, “Mom, please, pull over right now and lower that top.”

Every mother knows that when her daughter tells her to do something, we do it.

In fact, Francesca is the only person I obey.

So I did, and it was fun, even though my gray roots showed.

And then my best friend Franca gave me a baseball hat for my birthday, so when I lower my top, I also cover my top.

Plus for my birthday, my best friend Laura gave me a Formula One video game.

This is the first video game of my life.

I can’t wait to play it and drive around fictionally!

I might even put the fictional top down!

My best friend Nan said, “It’s never too late to reinvent yourself.”

And I am reinventing like crazy.

So now I have a sports car that I drive in the slow lane, having the time of my life.

People will say I’m having a midlife crisis, but they’re totally wrong.

I’m having an end-of-life crisis.

My midlife crisis was late.

It drives slow, too.

Besides, it’s not a crisis, it’s my own personal Italian Renaissance.

Bottom line, I’m not sure if I’m going in a good direction or bad one.

All I know is I’m going forward.

And I’m in the driver’s seat.

Yay! And I’m not going anywhere without my daughter and my besties.

Copyright © Lisa Scottoline 2024

Oxygen

By Lisa Scottoline

I’m writing this in the middle of the night.

And here’s why.

Steroids.

I’m not complaining.

I’m recommending.

Let me explain.

We begin two months ago when I develop a head cold and can’t shake it. On book tour, I can’t even hug people and that’s the reason I write books.

By the way, it’s not Covid.

I’m still a Covid virgin.

You think I’m lucky?

You never met Thing Two.

So I called my doctor and he refers me to an specialist, whom I go see.

He looks up my nose and says it’s “frothy.”

Froth does not belong in your nose.

It belongs in your cappuccino.

And now I’ll never drink cappuccino again.

The specialist diagnoses a sinus infection and prescribes an antibiotic and steroids.

Thus changing my life.

I don’t understand how I could go from feeling so bad in the morning to feeling so good at night. In fact, I could paint your house.

If you want, I’ll be right over.

I’ve never felt this good in my life.

I don’t know why I can’t live on steroids.

Maybe I’ll grow big muscles, but that’s not the worst thing in return for feeling like you could run the world.

Should I give it a try?

After I paint your house?

I’m happy I’m cured because I’m a bad patient. All I did was complain. In my defense, I live alone. So I was talking to dogs.

But I was extremely profane.

Somebody needs to explain to me the science of steroids.

Are these the same steroids that make people hit baseballs into the next state?

I think they’re different because you inject those steroids in your butt.

Or maybe that’s testosterone.

And maybe you inject it somewhere else.

All I know is now I have two working nostrils, one on each side. I’m breathing like a champ. I’m pretty sure I’m using up all the oxygen in the universe.

Please be careful.

Don’t exert yourself.

You’re only left with nitrogen or whatever.

The other weird thing about steroids is the dosage. You take six pills in a one day, then five, then four, you get the idea. I’ve never in my life taken five of the same pill one day.

Now I want six hundred.

This is why I don’t do drugs.

The only drug I do is chocolate.

That’s why I don’t buy chocolate cake.

Now I won’t buy steroids.

I have no portion control when it comes to steroids.

I’m gonna grow chin hair, but what else is new?

Plus I can write in the middle of the night. By the way, I apologize for not writing new pieces lately, but I’m on book deadline and my nose is frothy.

Now all I have to do is fall asleep.

I’ve been trying for four hours and I’ll succeed in four days.

Meantime I’ll mow the lawn, wash the car, and run the world.

I think I could run it better.

In my world, everybody would be nice and all waistbands would be elastic.

We’d clean up the Earth, the sea, and our bra drawer.

There would be shows on Netflix we haven’t seen already.

Books would never be burned, but Spanx would.

There would be a price cap on prescription drugs and highlights.

Salted caramels would fall from the sky.

Bradley Cooper would be my husband.

The Supreme Court would have the ethical obligations of a traffic court.

Trials would be televised because we saw everything on Netflix. Also, justice.

That would just be my first day on the job.

Mine would be a government on steroids, literally.

Either that or I’m coming over.

Say when.

© Lisa Scottoline 2024