Free My Nest Isn't Empty, It Just Has More Closet Space: The Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary Woman by Lisa Scottoline, Francesca Serritella Page A

job but for negative ads.
    So there you have it.
    Democracy creates jobs, and negative ads are proof.

Angie The Kitchen Aid
    This is a world in which the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but I’m wondering if we should change that.
    Tell you what happened.
    It was a typical afternoon chez Scottoline, and I was working in my kitchen office, which is a euphemism for the computer nearest the refrigerator.
    My favorite place to work, for obvious reasons.
    Anyway, the kitchen was quiet except for the thrumming of the dishwasher, which was running for the second time that day, because I was trying to get the glasses clean. If you recall, I’ve been having dishwasher drama, and it turns out that all the rinsing agents in the world have failed me. It was making me crazy, a mystery I couldn’t solve. My glasses were cloudy enough to be a weather report.
    To stay on point, I was working happily, surrounded by the dogs. Little Tony sat in my lap, because he always begs to come up. Ruby The Crazy Corgi was at my feet, since she usually curls up there. Penny, my younger golden retriever, was sitting beside me, pawing to be petted, which is her habit. Only Angie, my older golden, was on her own, lying near the dishwasher, probably because it was warm. Angie is soft, fluffy, and plump, with fur the toasty hue of vanilla wafers, and all she was doing was watching me, resting her head on her paws, her brown eyes dark as bittersweet chocolate in a mask gray with age. She didn’t paw, scratch, or whine. She asked for nothing.
    I caught her eye, and she flopped her tail once, letting it thwap on the hardwood floor, because all it takes to make Angie happy is to look in her direction. And because she never asks for anything, she doesn’t get very much. She’s twelve years old and she comes on our daily walks when she’s up for it, but she doesn’t get the attention the pushy ones do.
    Angie isn’t a squeaky wheel.
    But that day, seeing her by herself, I finally focused on her and realized that I had been neglecting her. Just because she didn’t ask for attention didn’t mean she didn’t deserve it, or need it. She’s a great old dog, even more precious because she won’t be around forever.
    So I lifted Little Tony from my lap, stepped over Ruby, ignored Penny, and went over to Angie. I sat down on the floor beside her, gave her a big kiss, and scratched behind her ear while she drifted off into a noisy slumber.
    And of course I began to relax, too, in a deep, centered way, and I realized that that was the gift you get from a dog like Angie. Because she’s at peace with herself, she makes you at peace with yourself. It made me understand that I’m rarely spending time doing something as simple as petting a sleeping dog, and that I’m too often running in all directions, responding to the ring of cell phones, the beep of incoming email, and the latest text in my BlackBerry.
    Angie made me take a break.
    I enjoyed the moment, letting my gaze wander over the things I see every day in the kitchen, like the baby photographs of Daughter Francesca, the bamboo plant on the windowsill, and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, near the sink. I brush my teeth three times a day, like a good girl, and about two months ago, I started keeping a toothbrush and toothpaste downstairs, because I got too lazy to keep running upstairs.
    Then, in a blink, it struck me.
    I’d been brushing my teeth in the kitchen sink, and that residual toothpaste must have been going down the drain, which flowed to the same pipe that feeds water to the dishwasher.

    Angie The Kitchen Aid.
    In other words, there’s nothing wrong with my KitchenAid, there’s something wrong with me. If I stop brushing my teeth in the kitchen sink, the clouds should clear from my glassware.
    Mystery solved.
    And all because I finally took the time to think, thanks to a sweet old golden retriever.
    Angie.

Book Party
    I’m grateful to my readers, so every year I have a contest for book clubs