Hot Water

It’s been a little over two months since my grandmother’s death; I miss her.  I miss her smile . . . combing and rolling her hair. 

So here’s the memory of her that is stalking my mind today.

I was around twelve years old. One day while my cousin and I were washing the dishes, my cousin complained about the water being too hot.  I’m laughing at the memory as I type, but back to the story. The water was hot, especially from the kitchen drain. So hot, that it took about 10 seconds for the sting of it pouring over your hands to sizzle down.    Anyway, this is how the conversation between my cousin and my grandma went.

Hot Water

EXT.  AUGUSTA GEORGIA- STREET- MORNING

Bright sunny day, several kids cheer as they pass and dribble a basketball.

INT.  GRANDMA’S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM

Southern gospel music plays.

1970’s décor, navy blue carpets, two flower print couches, a furnace heater, antique plates and family photos hang on the wall. Several generations of high school diplomas sit on the mantel.

Water runs hard in the kitchen faucet.

INT. KITCHEN

TWO YOUNG GIRLS stand over a double sink. THE SHORTER GIRL washes the dishes, while THE TALLER GIRL dries them.   AN OLDER WOMAN who appears to be their grandmother cuts potatoes at the kitchen table.

Shorter Girl looks at Taller Girl with a frown on her face

SHORTER GIRL

      This water is too hot. It’s 

          burning my hands. It’s too hot!

TALLER GIRL

               Don’t look at me; tell Grandma . . .

     Shorter Girl walks over the Older Woman.

SHORTER GIRL

         Grandma the water is too hot! 

It hurts my fingers.

GRANDMA

Well, I hope you remember 

      that when a boy asks you to have  

         sex with him. It’s hurts! It hurts, 

just like that hot water.

Taller Girl laughs as Grandma leaves the kitchen and Shorter Girl walks back over to the sink.

SHORTER GIRL

                But I wasn’t even talking about sex.

Life offers the best dialogue!

A bien tôt, 

J.L

Inspiration

You ever have one of those songs that makes you want to dance around the house in flannel pajamas?   I have three of them.

Goonies 'R' Good Enough – Cindy Lauper

We Are Young- by FUN (Feat. Janelle Monae)

If You Leave-by OMD

The thirteen films that unblock my writers block . . .

1.   The Labyrinth

2.   Little Women (1994)*****

3.   The Legend of Billie Jean*****

4.   Pan’s Labyrinth

5.   Tristan and Isolde

6.   Dirty Dancing

7.   Romeo and Juliet

8.   The Big Chill

9.   Heavenly Kid

10. How To Make An American Quilt *****

11. Pretty In Pink

12. Staying Alive

13. Imitation of Life

Favorite Vamp Films

1. Interview With The Vampire

2. Dracula

3. Once Bitten 

4. Let the Right One In

5. Nosferatu

6. Blacula

The movie that makes me LOL no matter how many times I see it….

The Wedding Crashers*****

The movie that makes me cry:

*The Lion King—I find myself yelling at Scar. It does not matter how many times I have seen the cliff scene. (King Mufasa)

The current soundtrack to my novel includes . . .

1. Not An Addict - K's Choice

2. Taylor Momsen - Zombie

3. Cold- Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

4. Fair- Remy Zero 

5. I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You - Colin Hay

6. Change (In the House of Flies) - Deftones

7. Death Letter - Edward Shearmur

Edit Purgatory

So, in editing... I've learned 5 things about myself: 

1. I'm anal about all revised changes. I end up cutting things, pasting them back, and then, cutting them again. 

2. I love my book, but secretly wanted to throw it out the window more than a few times.

3. I hate Revisions, but love how polished everything looks afterwards.

4. My brain continues to edit hours after I've decided to call it a night. 

5. A tape recorder on the nightstand comes in handy when my characters decide to speak to me at 3:00 in the morning. 

Pick More Daises

A Film Dedicated to Grandma.

Hummingbird

I'm stuck in Revision Hell, but I'm hoping to plan my escape in the next two to three weeks.

Besides the fact that editing is tedious in its own right, my Grandmother's passing has been extremely hard for me.   When I'm not writing, I'm trying to wrap my mind around the loss of her.  Hell, when I am writing I'm trying to wrap my mind around it.

I can no longer call her up to say hello, and that sucks.  I miss her beautiful laughter, watching her wash dishes at the double sink, and listening to her hum church hymns as she moved around the house clapping her hands to the beat.

J.L.

                              Mrs.  Hattie Virginia Jones 1939-2012

Message of Hattie

When we leave this life, no one remembers what clothes we wore, how much money we spent, or how popular or famous we were. What they do remember is how we treated them.

During one of the last conversations I had with my grandma, she told me to, “Tell it like it is.” This was common motto of Mrs. Virginia Jones, in that, she never hesitated to tell you how she felt.  She was authentic. She was real.  She was beautifully refreshing in a world where pure honesty is sometimes so very rare.

I loved the relationship that my grandmother and I shared. It was one in which I never felt I needed to be anyone other than myself.  Although many of the things I discovered in my life’s journey did not agree with her core beliefs, she never ceased to show or tell me how much she loved me whenever I visited—whenever I called.

She was an amazing, intelligent, and beautiful woman, my grandmother. The more of myself I became, the more she seemed to love me. That’s the message I received from her. To be your authentic self. 

Mrs. Hattie Virginia Jones 1939-2012

Cheers:)

I was only able to edit my MS a little today:(

It called my name."Jennifer, come fix me," said MS.

No, but seriously--

Okay--this cough is relentless; and the sinus infection is even worse.  I'm literally drowning in my own fluid.  Cheers to the Amoxicillin. I drink to that, yeah yeah, (In my Rihanna singing voice), in the hopes that it will work it's magical pink powers on my nasal passages.

Before I decided to write this blog, I was in the process of watching Bag of Bones, the series based on the book with the same name, by Stephen King.   I'll let you know how creepy it was once I press play again.

For now, I'm going to stack up on too much tissue and hope that the ringing in my right ear comes to a swift halt.

Sending a faux shout out to my Eustachian tube!

a bientôt

J.L