Thursday, March 31, 2016

Remembering to Remember to Tell You About Not Remembering

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories
Sweet memories

Getting older is not easy.  You walk into rooms and forget exactly why you are there so you turn around and walk out only to remember why you went in there but then forget when you return to the room.    I call it What did I come in here for Bingo. 

I watched  a movie not long ago that made me cry.  Even though I wasn’t as bad as the character in the movie, my memory is not what it used to be. I can’t remember the name of the movie but it was with that actress.  What’s her name?  Red hair, pale complexion and that guy was in it.  You know that guy that was on that show with that other actress who is really funny.  Anyway, the search for words and names  is frustrating to say the least but the realization that you can’t remember what you needed when you are standing in the aisle of the supermarket and missed appointments are all down right maddening.  Some memory loss is normal in the aging process and some is a product of our environment.  Our phones remember the numbers of our friends, doctor’s and favorite take out places, our computers send us reminders of birthdays and anniversaries and then of course the television never lets us forget important holidays.   Really it should be easy to remember things since we don’t have as much to remember.

Still things fall through the cracks.  Some of us, meaning me, have big cracks in our memories.  We have chasms, grand canyon sized chasms where things fall never to be heard from again.  This abyss is where most of my important information seems to be drawn like a dust bunny up a vacuum.    
Let me be clear here, we are not talking about dementia or Alzheimer’s, no it’s more like CRS, can’t remember shit.  It’s  a fog that comes on and no matter how hard you fight to get through it you are stuck.  Stuck in memory fog.  You know you know why you came into the kitchen but can’t see it through the brain fog.  Like Tom Hanks in Joe VS The Volcano, a brain cloud so large that you think maybe it’s time to buy an awesome set of luggage and become a human sacrifice. 

Exercise your brain the experts say.  Take a class, learn a new skill, get a hobby to challenge your brain.  Since I do what I’m told I enrolled in a class.  A psychology class that studies, you guessed it, memory.  I signed up.  I made it through the first few lectures and my first assignment was due in a week.  Then it happened.  I went into that room and couldn’t remember why I was there. 

I forgot that I had an assignment due.  I forgot that I was taking a class.  I forgot I was taking a class on memory. 

Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine
Memories, memories, sweet memories

If you need me I’ll be luggage shopping, I hear there is a Volcano God who needs feeding.

Friday, March 25, 2016


As women we work hard to be beautiful and look just like the women in magazines.  Oh crap I just showed my age, I mean on Instagram or Snap Chat or whatever the heck is popular today.  We all want to look young, hip and pretty.  Right now eyebrows are popular.  Unfortunately I have three maybe four eyebrow hairs, not on each side but total.  I decided that I would try out Wonder Brow, the product that magically gives you eyebrows

Let me tell you a little bit about the product.  It claims it is water proof.  You can go swimming pop out of the water and still have eyebrows.   You can rub it and it won’t smudge.  You can comb through it and smooth out what REAL eyebrow hairs you have.  You can apply make-up.  This all sounded perfect.  This is just what I needed.   

I ordered the product on Thursday and received it Saturday.  So far so good, right? 

 I watched the video.  I read the instructions.  I am a relatively intelligent mature woman who has applied make-up before.  I can do this.  I promptly ran upstairs and scrubbed my face and began the application process.  The color was a little darker than I normally use, but hey I can work around that.  I began with fine strokes just like the video said.  Only instead of strokes it was more like a glob here and a blob there.  No problem I’ll smooth it out.  I smoothed here and wiped there and brushed and added a little more. 

When I was done I looked like Frieda Kahlo.  Yeah I think I need more practice and decided to take it off.    I took a shower.  I scrubbed my face.  They did not lie.  It does not come off.  I scrubbed my face.  It does not come off.  I took a jack hammer to it.  No luck. 

My husband noticed my new eyebrows.  He asked me if I had been working on the car because I had a smudge on my forehead.  He tried to remove it by spitting on his finger and rubbing vigorously across my brows.  It did not come off.

So if you use this product.  I highly recommend lots of practice.  You might want to actually have more than 4 eyebrow hairs or it looks painted on.  Use an oil based product to get it off.  If you make a mistake and color outside the lines you will look like a freak for at least 2 days.    Other than that it does what it says.  It gives you eyebrows and it is water proof.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

The Ancients

I stand in the field of the ancients and read the names on the stones.  I stroll along reading births and deaths, remnants of who they were. Their families gathered around them to share the afterlife.  I hear the birds overhead and see the squirrels running, playing, working gathering the acorns from the wild oak trees and wonder what will be said of me.

 I pay homage to the ancients and leave my floral sacrifice to be ripped and torn, shredded by the wind.  I know the sun will bake the cloth and plastic; rain and snow will wilt their perky petals. Still I leave them.  It is what those who came before me, the ancients, did for their loved ones.  It is what I do.

I wonder if they look down from heaven and criticize my arrangement or chastise me for not visiting more often.  I wonder if they hear my words of remembrance or see my tears of grief.  I wonder if they are there at all.

I say a prayer to the ancients call upon their wisdom to help me get through my time here.  I feel a swelling in my heart and lump in my throat as a cardinal stares at me from the bare branch of a tree.   I know the ancients are here.  I know they are a part of every breath I draw.  They are with me.  They are me.