Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…


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Being Magnolia.

I am old enough to remember when Waco meant something horrific. Now, among other things, it’s an hour wait for cupcakes. The turnaround is something to see!

Full disclosure, I loved the show Fixer Upper. So, walking into their new “old” hotel, I feel a part of it. “Oh, I remember when we picked out the green leather for the banquettes…and the black and white photos, oh, and those books…” This is what I’m thinking, probably what most of the people inside are thinking. And the truth is, all the decisions were made long before we saw it on tv…long before we got involved…if I can even use the word involved. But I suppose that’s the brilliance of what they do. They make you feel like you are a part of it.

And I guess that’s what we all want — to be connected. It’s why we take the photos. Stand in front of the Magnolia sign. We want to be a part of it. To step inside a true success story. And to know the history, well, that just makes it even more special.

I hope that’s what is being contemplated as they line around the corner, waiting for their sugary treats. I hope they are thinking, “maybe this thing I’m stuck in, I could turn it around,“ “maybe this thing that I’ve survived, I could share,” “maybe this thing that I’m really good at, I could teach…”

The Magnolia tree is an ornamental, but remarkably flexible, and ever green. I like that. I want to be like that. I hope we all can. Be flexible, as we wander through each other’s stories. Patient. Caring. Changing. Admiring. And if we could do that for the stories of others, maybe we could even do that for ourselves. See the beauty of it all! Wouldn’t that be something!


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Worth a second look.

The first time we went to Lafayette, a few years ago, we didn’t really like the city. To be fair, we didn’t really see it. We lost a tire (we found it, as it rolled past our moving rental car) and spent the afternoon at the gas station. By the time it was finished, we asked the station attendant, where was the city center. He seemed baffled and said, “I think we’re in it.”  Banking this as truth, we drove on. 

Just before arriving in Lafayette this year, I asked Dominique, “Have we been here before?” We relived the runaway tire story and laughed. We both decided, “Not really.” In the daylight this time, we could see all the signage urging us to try the boudin balls. We love trying local food. Winding our way through the barriers set up for the Mardis Gras parade, we stumbled upon a small restaurant that said, “still open.” We ordered the pride of Lafayette – the boudin – not really in a ball, but more of a sausage – and it was delicious. We started to really see Lafayette. We went to an antique shop. They had real antiques, not Chinese remakes. We browsed slowly, thoughtfully, wishing we had more room in our suitcases. We visited with the owner. He was delighted we were visiting from France. We praised his store. Offered our apologies for not being able to buy anything because of the travel. He went into the back room. Came back with little packets. “I want you to have these.” They were flower seeds. Almost weightless, but for the meaning. “Plant them when you get back, then you will have a part of us there.”

Lafayette in the light of day. In the light of the people. Beautiful. We really saw it. 

It is springtime now in the south of France. Soon we will plant these flower seeds, and get a second look (or third) at Lafayette. And I suppose that is what spring is all about – giving us a second look, another chance. Another chance to see the beauty that this world holds. The weight of this! The importance! I don’t want to miss a thing!