I'm currently listening to The Handmaid's Tale by Atwood as part of my Feminist Reads Challenge.
While I could say so many things about the story as a whole, and about the frighteningly realistic nature of some of the plot points, today I want to talk about something else.
So why do jimmies speak to me? Why did a sudden grin cross my weary face when Atwood had Of-Fred describe a memory cone with jimmies on top?
Many years ago - the last time I saw myself as "a writer" - I had a simple picture book manuscript that I'd written. I even went so far as to go to a writer's retreat and share my words with someone to get critique. In it, the main character talks about jimmies. The person reading it recommended I change "jimmies" to "sprinkles" because no one would know what they were. I'd never realized it was a regional term.
That wasn't the only reason I was disheartened, but I did put that story aside and move on with my life. Still, I smile whenever I hear someone who doesn't live in my neck of the woods talk about jimmies. I love them, and I'd never disrespect the delicacy by declaring them simply sprinkles.
What do you call them?
I'm participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge, hosted by the amazing educators at Two Writing Teachers. Stop by to see what others are posting!
Also - if you stop by and comment, and you are also slicing - PLEASE feel free to include your URL in the comments. With over 200 people slicing, it is often hard to go find your specific link on the Two Writing Teachers page, and I'd love to come read YOUR slice too!