“
“…My brother and I weren’t really “why?” kind of kids. If we asked our mother why the sky was blue, we’d get a real answer:
“The blue color in the sky is due to light rays scattering. As light moves through the atmosphere, most of the longer wavelengths pass straight through. The red, orange and yellow light rays are long, so they’re not affected by the air. But the shorter wavelength light, like the blue light, is absorbed by the molecules. The absorbed blue light radiates in different directions. It gets scattered all around the sky. Since you can see the blue light rays scattering from everywhere overhead, the sky looks blue.”
If you got that answer as a child, you’d never ask why again. “
” — ~ a quote from my book
I pay the clerk and head over to load my coffee with cream and sugar. ”Long day already, hu,” says the gentleman at the creamer station as he slowly stirs his coffee with one of those oversized wooden toothpicks. ”It’s gonna be,” I sigh. “My flight’s delayed.” ”Really, that never happens,” he says in a sarcastic, but sweet tone.” I finish putting the lids on the cups of coffee as I notice how well he’s dressed. Yes, he’s wearing jeans, but they’re designer; a good wash and a great fit. He’s wearing a t-shirt and a well-tailored jacket. His shoes are well made and shined. Mom would be impressed. But his chizzled chin is showing signs of an early five o’clock shadow. ”Going or coming?” I ask casually ”Going technically. I’m supposed to be on a flight to Miami, but it’s delayed.” ”Really? Mine too” ”Yeah, you mentioned that,” he interjects giggling. ”Yes,” I say embarassed. “I mean, I’m supposed to be going to Florida too - Fort Myers. It’s delayed.” I put the sandwich in my purse, sling it over my shoulder and grab the coffee cups. ”Heading this way?” I ask gesturing with a coffee cup in the direction of my gate. ”Yes,” he begins to walk with me. I can’t help but think about the fact that this sort of thing never happens to me. That is, I never end up chatting it up with random attractive guys. Especially not in an airport. (more about not being hit on) ”So you’re on business,” he confirms, interrupting the awkward silence I must have left while drifting in thought. Keep up Heather, this is why guys don’t hit on you. ”No, to see my grandmother,” I correct. Wow, you sound super cool now. You could have gone with the business thing; you travel for work all the time. ”My grandparents live in Cape Coral.” ”Oh, I love Cape Coral. Come on Heather, keep up. “Oh, you’ve been there?” I ask ”Yeah my family’s from outside of Miami so we vacation near there sometimes. Well …,” he begins to wrap things up. Good one Heather. Way to keep up a conversation. ”Well, I guess I should let you get back to your boyfriend before his coffee’s cold.” Score! Even I know that means some sort of interest. He’s fishing. ”Oh, this?” I say looking down at my hands, each holding a cup. “This is for my cousin.” Then I look up from my coffee cup and smile right at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Chapter One
(excuse errors and my personal notes)
“Miss, please put your seat in its upright position. We’re about to land.”
Six strait hours on this plane and I am beginning to lose feeling in my left leg. Even though my bladder is the size of a thimble, I usually opt for the window seat on cross-country flights. At least then I can pop some sleeping pills, prop my legs up in a suedo fetal position against the window, and attempt to get some rest.
I raised my seat, jabbed at my leg a few times to get the blood to start flowing again and drifted back to sleep.
“Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Atlanta. The local time is 6:25am. For those of you with connecting flights, please check the screens when you deboard. Attendants will be waiting to assist you should you have any questions.”
Six twenty-five. Yikes. It’s only 3:25 in Los Angeles. I despise red eyes.
I despise the Atlanta airport. It’s got to be the most unorganized, chaotic conglomerate of aviation mess I’ve ever seen. My mother was a flight attendant. By my second birthday I’d been on more planes than most adults, but I have yet to master Atlanta’s airport without stressing just a tad.
It’s 6:30am and I’m attempting to board the tram from terminal A to terminal C where I’m scheduled to meet my cousin Heather and board a 7:20 flight to Fort Myers. I’m on my fall break from school and we figured it would be a good time to surprise Grandma and Grandpa Hecklau with a visit.
I wedged myself on to the tram and try to hold my balance so as to avoid touching any of the rails and handles. Heather calls this sub-way surfing, a skill she mastered while living in New York city. With just the right amount of balance and thigh strength, one can balance even while the tram is coming to a stop. It’s either a fun city-dweller’s sport, or a surefire way of avoiding contact with the most disgusting of germs. Of course, lose your balance and you’ll be gifted with a face full of scummy subway floorboards.
Six forty-five. I exit the restrooms. The one thing I do love about airport restrooms is there never seem to be any lines. And if there’s one place you can’t deal with lines it’s in an airport, especially when you have less than an hour to catch your next flight. Good thing I inherited my mother’s “fastest pee-er on earth” skill. Of course maybe that is merely a result of my thimble-sized bladder.
As I approach the terminal, it doesn’t take me long to spot her. Kaitlin’s black carry-on bag has a bright pink ribbon tied around the handle. I look down at mine and take note of the a worn and faded Carolina blue ribbon as I walk closer.
“Someone must have taught you how to mark your luggage,” I say.
“Everyone has the same black bag,” she jokes turning around.
“If you mark your luggage with a ribbon, you won’t mistake someone else’s for your own,” we mock our mothers in unison.
“God it’s good to see you,” Kaitlin says as she throws her arms around me.
“Attention passengers of flight 1030 with service to Fort Myers. Scheduled boarding time will be delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience and will inform you once we have further information on the matter. Thank you, and again we apologize for the delay.
“Hurry up and wait,” Kaitlin says as we slump into the seats behind us. “Hurry up and wait.”
So here is the basic concept. I’m writing this book with my cousin Kaitlin. Kaitlin and I share the same maternal grandmother (aka our mom’s are sisters and we’re both the first born). Anyway, we’re writing a sort of “mother-daughter, generational, coming of age type story” about the lessons we’ve learned over the years.
Kaitlin likes to call it “If at Fist You Don’t Succeed, do What Your Mother Taught You.”
The STORY part of the book (which is 99% made up) is about us meeting up to go visit our grandmother. As it unravels we will have trouble getting there, and a conflict of sorts will arise - it will be an adventure story as we travel to get to our grandmother.
The TRUE part of the book will be the “flashback” stories we tell about lessons we’ve learned, qualities passed down from generation to generation, etc.
The POINT of the book is to appeal to our family, not to the masses; however, the hope is that it will be written in a way that everyone can understand and ultimately relate to.
The GOAL is to get it done as a mother’s day gift, and then go from there.
Step One: Just get started... -
So, I took the plunge and signed up for the National Novel Writing Month site. Oh boy…
In no particular order:
Last night I was on a mission: clean sheets that smell amazingly inviting.
During our stay in Palm Springs, it seemed like every time I rolled over I got a burst of fresh-smelling sheets from the bed I occupied in our amazing desert getaway home. Since then I’ve been longing for that comforting feeling while I slumber.
Lord knows that the combination of dog, boyfriend, cat (and various smells associated with each) don’t often add up to fresh smelling linens. I needed a girly change.
Additionally, my The Writer’s Rep partner is going to be in town this weekend with his lady and I’ve volunteered my personal Bed & Breakfast (aka my studio apartment which has quickly become a home-away-from home for any of my out of town friends who choose to take advantage). I had to clean house.
After work I went to the store and picked up the essentials:
I was so pleased with the smell of my sheets that I rushed over to the BF’s house to clean his. Needless to say, I slept like a baby and it was worth every penny of the money spent on non-discounted detergent.
mmm…breath it in. Can’t wait for bedtime!
I Love Athleta.com, but this picture just doesn’t make sense to me. Let me count the ways:
Thoughts?
I love this Vintage style cocktail ring from VintageYard.com. The cool thing is that if you become a fan of VintageYard.com on facebook and then post an image/link of your favorite ring from their site, you can actually win the ring of your choice! Way cool.
Love that!
A new thing to love…
… Palm Springs weekend vacations!