Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Let's Chat

by Jennifer AlLee

It's my day to write the post. Problem is, I have no idea what to write. As you can imagine, this is frustrating for a writer. It's not writer's block. If it were, I would know what to do. When it comes down to it, non-fiction is hard, especially when the options are so broad. "Write anything" sounds liberating, but it's more like being thrown into the deep end of the pool and being told, "use whatever stroke you like."

If we met for the first time, at a party or a writers conference, we'd learn about each other by sharing stories and interesting facts. So why don't we try a little chit chat? I'll go first...

When I go to Taco Bell, I order a burrito supreme with no onions and extra cheese. Before I eat it, I open the tortilla, swirl the insides around with my finger, then fold it back up again. Why? Otherwise, you have a burrito with a lump of cheese at one end, a lump of sour cream at the other, and none of either in the middle. Swirling is required for maximum goodness.

I can use my tongue to tie a cherry stem into a knot. It's not at all pretty, as it requires a number of contortions to accomplish this feat. But I can do it.

I'm allergic to decongestants and gold injections (it's a long story).

Four generations - Grandma Marie, Mom (Rose-Marie),
Great-grandma Meta, and baby Jennifer
My grandfather was in a movie with Clark Gable. He was only in one scene, playing the violin, but he's right next to Clark.

When I was little, I lived with my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. I kept getting my grandmother and great-grandmother confused, so I called great-grandma "Grandma" and I called my grandmother "Great Marie." Eventually, I shortened it just to Marie. It wasn't until two years after my great-grandmother passed away that I finally called my grandmother "Grandma."

I was almost named Meta, after my great-grandmother. As much as I loved her, I really am glad my mom and dad decided to go with Jennifer.

Now you know a little more about me. Tell me something about yourself. I look forward to it!


JENNIFER ALLEE was born in Hollywood, California, and spent her first ten years living above a mortuary one block away from the famous intersection of Hollywood and Vine. Now she lives in the grace-filled city of Las Vegas, which just goes to prove she’s been blessed with a unique life. When she’s not busy spinning tales, she enjoys playing games with friends, attending live theater and movies, and singing at the top of her lungs to whatever happens to be playing on the car radio. Although she’s thrilled to be living out her lifelong dream of being a novelist, she considers raising her son to be her greatest creative accomplishment. To find out more about her novels, visit her website at


  1. Fun post! I totally understand your Taco Bell issue. I hate it when I get a burrito and there's a bite full of cheese and nothing else. So vexing. I'm serious.

    A few things about me...hmm. When I was an infant, my grandpa used to put me on his lap and spoon feed me coffee with sugar and milk, so I turned into a coffee-loving kid. It was reserved as a special treat, and it was more milk than coffee, but there you have it.

    I would rather have french fries than ice cream.

    I cannot snap. I have tried every trick people have given me, but nothing works. I do the motions, and no snap sound results. I am a freak of nature.

  2. Coming in late... would love to hear about the gold injections. Did I say story fodder? No-o-o-o-o....

    You want to know about me? Yay!

    When I was 3...I bit into a Christmas ornament before anyone could stop me. No scars that I know of.

    When I was 4... I flew through a windshield after mom hit a moose. It left a 1/2" scar on my chin right below my bottom lip.

    When I was 6... I became courageous one day and sneaked out of the yard to visit a friend and in my haste to return, stepped on a broken pop bottle where a thick shard pierced the side of my foot to the bone. I still carry the 1" scar.

    You would think I would have learned, eh, but when I was 9... I sneaked into a neighbour's unfinished basement and pushed on a string that was tied to a plumb bob which drilled me on the noggin. The 1/2" scar is why my hair looks like a cheap imitation of Cruella DeVille.

    When I was 11... I slashed my upper right thigh while learning to whittle. I still seethe at the thought of Papa's ministrations using rubbing alcohol and bear witness to the 1" scar. Learning to whittle was hard as it also produced 2 additional scars on my hands. That was an interesting summer.

    I'm going to stop here before showing off my stupidity, but thanks for asking.

  3. Hi, my name is C.J. Oh, wait, no, it's not. Those are my initials. Years ago my cousins had a dog named C.J., and someone figured out those were my initials too. I guess you could say I was nicknamed for the dog.

    I can count on one hand the number of times I've eaten at Taco Bell in my life. I can't count on one hand (or probably both hands), the number of times I've eaten at Chick-Fil-A this month.

    I live near the Atlantic Ocean. The last time I was at the beach was...2015 maybe? Yeah, not a beach person. I prefer my water frozen. And smooth. I love to ice skate, but I'd rather skate backwards than forwards. It's a figure skater thing.

    I used to be a church organist. I once had to call the minister 6 days before Easter to let him know I couldn't play at the most important service of the year because of pregnancy complications. I made up for it though when I played at a service in labor. Gave birth to son #2 later that day.

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  5. I guess you just have to start typing and hope interesting things come to mind...
    When I was seven, I had my tonsils out and stayed in one of those big children's wards (like in the old movies, ha ha). The nurse would come in and ask 'who wants to go first?' (with her big syringe in hand!) And I would always say "Me!" (so my mother said) I'm chronically curious about everything, but I like to think this showed my natural leadership ability. oh, and after surgery, when all the kids got ice cream, I asked for those little square orange crackers with peanut butter that come in a package of six. That's all I wanted for 24 hrs. For all my heroism, I got a stuffed animal--a white poodle. I still have it.


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