Bob had a dog buscuit stuck to his head. "How does he always get food stuck to him?" I asked Morelli. "I don't know," Morelli said. "It's a Bob mystery. I think stuff falls out of his mouth and he rolls in it. I'm not sure." -Morelli And Stephanie

I got out of the tub and had to squelch a scream when I saw my reflection in the vanity mirror. My hair looked like it had taken 2000 volts and been spray starched

Any intelligent woman would have made a dignified retreat, but this was New Jersey, where dignity always runs a poor second to the pleasure of getting in someone's face.

Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli. "No. Were discussing." "Are you sure?" "Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?" "No." "The were not fighting.

Make sure your main characters are likeable. They can be flawed, but your readers need to be able to root for them.

You need teeth like mine!" Grandma said. "You can just mail 'em to the dentist!

I always know it's Sunday because I wake up feeling apologetic. That's one of the cool things about being a Catholic . . . it's a multifaceted experience. If you lose the faith, chances are you'll keep the guilt, so it isn't as if you've been skunked altogether.