Though I felt compelled to enter the
Erma Bombeck Writing Competition, I -- rightly -- did not expect to win. ("Rightly" because, with two years to plan, I didn't start work on my entry till a couple of days before the deadline.)
I didn't expect the judges to take the time to comment on my work either -- but I found today that one of them did, and the contest coordinator has passed this on to me:
Loved the approach. Really effective, and never got old or tiring. Terrific dialogue
How do I say how surprised and grateful I am that someone liked my work that much?
Anyway, since it's
that good, I'm posting here for your enjoyment my imaginative essay "That Reminds Me". (Not really so imaginative, either; my memory's really like that. I had a hard time finding the file it was in because I'd named it "soy sauce coffeemaker".)
“Why is there a bottle of soy sauce on the coffeemaker?” my husband asked one Saturday afternoon.
“Because I have a visual memory.”
“You mean soy sauce looks like coffee, so you put them together?”
“No, no! You see, I just read something about how some people need visual cues to remember things. Like leaving your car keys out to remind you that you have another child and he has to be picked up from homework club.”
“So what is the soy sauce supposed to remind you of?”
“What to make for dinner.”
“Oh, we’re having something Chinese?”
“If we were, the vegetable knife would be pointed North to remind me to get the Chinese cookbook out of the spare room. No, we’re having my secret ingredient macaroni and cheese.”
“That’s the secret ingredient? I thought it was non-alcoholic vodka.”
“It is, actually, but I forgot to get that when I was at the store because I wasn’t wearing my red scarf. So we’re having alternative secret ingredient mac and cheese.”
“Okay . . . What’s for dessert? Something with pecans?”
“No, the nuts are to remind me to tell you that Ed called while you were out.”
“What did he want?”
“He’s pretty sure he saw the alien mothership over the high school just now – but it may have been a double rainbow. He says if they take him away, we can have his kayak.”
“I’m not holding my breath.”
“Me either. If I were, I’d have left a life vest on the coffee table.”
“Your visual cues all seem kind of specialized.”
“You have to use what works for you, it said. Besides, you wouldn’t want it to be too obvious, like leaving the tent in the driveway to remind you you’re going camping that weekend. There’d be a break-and-enter before we got out of the driveway.”
“If you have to have a burglary, wouldn’t that be the best time?”
“I’ll have to think about that. Put Grandma’s candlestick on the windowsill to remind me.”
“Okay. Now can I take the soy sauce off the coffeemaker and, you know, make myself some coffee?”
“Sure, just remember to put it back . . . But what are you listening to?”
“Your memory may be visual, but mine’s vocal.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there’s a little voice in my head saying, ‘Just hang in there and she’ll get tired of this, like she got tired of trying to grow our own rice.’”
