I've enrolled in a food writing class. This strikes me as a fun and enriching thing to do. I love to write about food (obviously), and lo and behold, along comes someone willing to take my money to teach me how to write about food, but better. Also, there will be snacks that I can potentially both eat and write about*. Win-win, redefined.
Class starts Tuesday night.
We are out to dinner as a family, and I begin discussing the first homework assignment.
Me: We have to read the first chapter of a book called Consider the Oyster. Then, we are supposed write our own essay, "Consider the...blank". The blank can be anything food related.
My husband: Wait a second. Consider the blank? What does that even mean?**
Me: Well, they did give us some examples. Like, "Consider the raspberry" or "Consider the carrot". I suppose I could do "Consider the bacon" or "Consider the food truck."
My husband: So, do you have any idea what you are going to consider?
Me: No! It's so open ended! I'm really struggling and class hasn't even started yet.
My son: Wait. Is this like some kind of Goblet of Fire thing?
My husband and I both turn to stare at him, well, blankly.
Him: You know, where you have to go underwater and dive down and the mermaids are there, holding your friends prisoner?
Him: Hel-lo! Harry Potter? Anybody home?
[He makes a few exaggerated gestures with his hands that also are unintelligible, but could be interpreted as symbolizing the opening of a mollusk or wizards doing an odd form of the breast stroke.]
Him: Where they didn't know what their assignment was? And the other kid grew gills?
Like an OYSTER!?
No. Not like that at all.
Now feel I have a potential topic: Consider the Vodka.
* In an improved way.
** At least he wasn't completely dismissive anymore. When I first told him about the class, he said, "Why are you taking a writing class? That, you already know how to do. Why don't you find a class that will teach you to go to bed on time or how to stop signing up for stuff?"