Friday, January 11, 2013

Val Can Get it for You Wholesale

I'm kicking around a new invention. Not literally kicking. That's an aerobic activity, hard to perform from a chair in front of the computer in your dark basement lair.

But let's not put the cart before the horse. And I assure you, my invention is NOT a cart. You'll find out farther down the page. Hang onto the cliff a bit longer, you instant-gratification junkies! Patience is a virtue, and winding through one of Val's meandering posts is next to Mother-Teresa-ness.

This morning in the shower, I had the most scathingly brilliant idea for a submission. I'd like to think that inspiration flows into me through some other-worldly conduit. But I have a feeling it's just the thyroid medication kicking in. The idea was about how teachers support each other, have an unwritten code, how colleagues have your back, will give up their prep hour to fill in for you if an emergency arises. UNTIL IT COMES TO SUPPLIES. Not-Heaven hath no fury like a teacher filched from. They are on guard 24/7 for acts of pilferage.

So invested was I in this story of truth that I smiled at The Pony all the way to school, he in the seat behind me, oblivious to my Cheshire lippage. Listened with one ear to the plot of the new science fiction book he is writing (already has a prologue and two chapters), I gleefully invented new words in my head, set the scene, shouted the kicker in caps in my mind.

By seventh hour, I had forgotten the whole thing. All day long, I had been harboring my secret, not consciously thinking about it, just enjoying that warm glow knowing that after school and a bank trip and shopping for the week and grabbing a 44 oz. Diet Coke and carrying in and putting away all that stuff, I could put my true story on screen. Yet there I was, five minutes before the bell, drawing a blank. Oh, the inanity! I almost panicked. The whole circuitous trip home, I tried to backtrack. Get the feel. The mood. The ambiance of the tale. For some reason, my mom kept popping into my head. But I didn't think it was about her. She's not all that funny. I took myself back to the location. The kicker. AND IT HIT ME! I had my story back.

My new invention is for those who never get their story back. C'mon. Who has a little spiral notebook with them in the shower? Not me. It's out in the living room on the end table. A world away from the shower. Woe is the showering writer struck by a bolt of inspiration. I sensed a need. So I invented...drum roll please...


Oh, yeah! A product whose time has come. Wear this waterproof little notebook around your neck, with its attached grease pencil. Never lose an idea again. For those who don't like wearing their bling au naturel, a variation comes as a memo board for the shower wall. With suction cups!

Race you to the patent office!


  1. That would be one way to keep my posts clean.

  2. You are onto something. I have used lipstick to jot a message on the shower tile. You could probably retire once your idea takes off, unless it takes off out of your head before you make a prototype, and then if you did make a prototype and came back after school and wondered what the heck it would go my day.

  3. joeh,
    Just another service I provide.

    That is a likely scenario. "What is THIS crap? That's the ugliest necklace I've ever seen. Like a prehistoric version of a locket. What was I thinking?"

    I look at it as a sideline for my proposed handbasket factory. I'm sure folks will need something to jot down ideas while passengering their time on the inevitable trip.

  4. This is BRILLIANT! You are so right about a shower stall being a conduit for brilliant ideas (and some amazing inanity). The only problem I see is brilliant people may miss these things in the store when they are side-tracked by Larry the Cable Guy Pork Blend BBQ Chips.

    Which seem to be as scarce as Twinkies here in Idaho, but they are going for prices between 3 and 9 dollars on Ebay.

  5. Leenie,
    Well, they are scarcer than hen's teeth here, because I never even knew THAT flavor existed! I have been coerced by the gas station chicken store clerks to try the Fried Dill Pickle and the Cheese Burger. Yeah. That's how it is on the bag. Two words. Cheese. Burger. They are way too salty, but you can taste the nuances of burger, cheese, ketchup, mustard, and pickle. The pickle chips are just like other Dill Pickle chips I've tried. Don't know where the Fried taste went.

  6. I like it. Pinterest would no doubt love to post it. But, that would be giving it away and we should profit from our epiphanies ....

  7. Kathy,
    I'm sure you could use one at your Kampground. You know, while you're cleaning up the showers. It would be considered a tax write-off, of course.