I’ve been going through a rough patch with my writing. I really started to feel like all these agent rejections left me facing a dead-end road. So I’ve been down the past few weeks. Grandma H picked me up for our outing two weeks ago and my mom cautioned her to be careful because I’ve been feeling low.
So Grandma H tries to be upbeat about my writing and be supportive. She talks about how much I’ve accomplished.
I start to laugh and say, “You know every time I’m optimistic about my writing, you piss all over it.”
She replies, “I don’t mean to. Do I really do that?”
I say, “Yeah, you piss on it.”
She confides, “I really don’t mean to piss on it. That’s terrible that I piss on it. I won’t piss on it.”
After she works piss into three sentences in a row, I can’t help laughing.
Grandma H goes to the doctor for a rash on her face. He gives her some cream and tells her it’s rosacea. He warns that stress will make it worse.
Grandma H comes home and announces, “I have wastoria.” She then taps her nose to show us where it is.
“You have what?”
“Wastoria. It’s this red rash on my nose and cheeks.”
I ask, “You mean rosacea?”
When my uncle comes in the room she says, “Don’t stress me out or my rastoria will get worse.” She taps her nose again.