~ Deflation ~

A couple of years ago I was playing around with baking and making new recipes for cookies.  I shared the fruits of my labor with my friends, because, I may be fat, but I couldn’t eat all the cookies! (Yes, I could, but this time I didn’t.)

I came up with a cookie so num-num-nummy, that my dear friend, Shirley, suggested I enter it into the Montgomery County Fair’s Baking Contest.  She assured me it would be fun.  She assured me I had nothing to lose.  She assured me I would place or maybe even win!  How could I refuse?

Hey, I’m not immune to ego-stroking.  I’m only human.

So with a light in my eye, I tightened my apron and got to work.  I followed the fair rules and  instructions, made the cookies, entered them, and held my breath.  Never before had I pitted my abilities against anyone else in this arena. It was a mite scary, but I wasn’t daunted.


Days later, as we waited for the judging to come, doubt crept in.  I mean, my cooking really wasn’t about quality so much as it was about quantity.   Maybe I was only setting myself up for rejection.  I mean, come on!  It’s not like I’m trained or anything.  I just know what makes my gullet happy, not necessarily a judge’s.  Shirley’s encouragement faded to a distant memory.

And then the call came.

Shirley said I had placed!  My Oatmeal, pecan, white chocolate chip, butterscotch, cinnamon cookie had actually placed in the fair!!!  Sure, it was 5th place, but it was a place, none the less!  I could now tell people I was an award-winning baker!  How could I have doubted myself?  I’m a darn good baker!  I have the backfat to prove it!  And now I would have a ribbon to prove it, too! I wondered what color my ribbon would be.  My ego puffed up so much, I had to wear my stretch pants.  (Though that may have been gas; I’m still not sure.)

My Captain agreed to take me to the fair to see my cookie in its case, and to pick up my ribbon, and my check for $4.00.  (That was the prize amount for 5th place, you see.)  I was so proud, so elated, I was walking on air. (Actually, that might have been gas, too.)

This is what we saw in the Judging Barn:

In between the second and third places, and a little behind, were my beloved Oatmeal, etc., cookies.  And on my entry tag was written “5th Place” on the top corner……but no ribbon.

Someone had stolen my ribbon!  I was incensed!  I ranted about how wrong it was. What kind of psychopathic criminal would steal a person’s ribbon?  That’s like stealing candy from a baby.  Oh the judges would hear about this!  Why weren’t the cases locked, for crying out loud?  Unacceptable! I would get my ribbon somehow, come Hell or Highwater!  I had already made space for it on the wall at home.  What was society coming to that a woman’s baking contest ribbon wasn’t safe?

Troy surveyed the glass case with a furrowed brow,  distracted.  Why wasn’t he listening?  Wasn’t he as irate as I was about this?  What did he think?  Say something!

After deliberating a moment, he turned to me and said gently, “Honey, there aren’t 5 entries.”  What?  “There are only 4 entries.  Someone has made a mistake.”

Lemme get this straight….I got fifth place and there were only four entries?


I snapped my mouth, which had dropped open, shut, climbed down off of my soap box, straightened my hair, and mumbled that I didn’t really want the ribbon anyways.  What would I do with a stupid ribbon?  Only children want ribbons.  Not me.

I never liked the Fair.

Categories: Uncategorized | 7 Comments

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7 thoughts on “~ Deflation ~

  1. Jonni

    I almost peed my pants…I am laughing so hard I’m crying…..Oh wait maybe that is gas…lol

  2. EVFKirkpatrick

    Talk about taking the wind out of your sails — sheesh. I would love to try one of your cookies, Pam, and I bet I’d give it first place, too!

  3. Carolyn

    I can’t stop laughing, not at you per se, WITH you. Of course

  4. Carolyn

    I am so proud of you for your bravery!!
    I’ve been thinking of entering my cheesecake for years, but haven’t gone to the trouble.
    Woot! Woot! Mama!

  5. Maryanne Cunningham Giorgio

    O.k. Wicked funny….feeling the whole thing….Damn…who was it that was pulling your leg??? Goodfriend this Shirley? I’d like to meet her…right up my alley. lol p.s I’ll give up a recipe for one of those cookies 🙂

  6. Reblogged this on Mama Boe.

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