Forgetting Those Things

". . .many women experience some sort of short-term memory loss."

That was from an article about what women can expect at my age and stage.

Sigh.

We are gearing up for the ACE junior convention in April. Last Thursday we planned a moms' meeting to hammer out the details of which events our kids would enter and how we were going to raise funds.

Then it snowed and we put it off until Friday.

It snowed Friday as well so the meeting was called off again.

Monday morning was a typical Monday morning around here, with everyone going at half speed and me stumbling around with half-closed eyes groping for the electric kettle and trying to brew black tea without dumping hot water down my pajamas.

Finally everyone was out the door and I sat down at the computer with a cup of tea and a sigh of relief. Just as I was catching up on everyone's weekend on Facebook, the phone rang. It was Paul. "Do you know what's going on? There's a bunch of moms showing up here at school."

"I have no idea," I said.

Paul went and asked them. They were having a moms' meeting about junior convention. It had been announced. And I had all the convention information at my house.

Thoroughly confused, I got dressed and combed my hair and grabbed the big notebook and headed out. When I got there I apologized and then explained righteously that Paul must have sent that message around the school hot line without my knowing it because I didn't know a thing about this meeting.

There was a chorus of opposition. No no no, it was MY voice on that phone call! No question about that. They remembered! Yes they did, and I needn't try to blame it on Paul.

Terrible. I have no memory of making that phone call. To make it worse, I pride myself on writing everything down to compensate for my fading brain, and I didn't even remember to put it on the calendar after I called.

Then today was sewing circle. I was very competent and capable and even had my brain turned on, and this morning I mixed up a meat loaf to take along and had it on the table by my purse and the quilt-backing fabric.

And then I left, and forgot the meat loaf.

An hour or so later, Ben called. His cell phone wasn't working and he was going to the coast with friends, so could he come to church and pick up my phone and take it along. Of course.

I hung up and explained to Aunt Susie what the call was about. She said, "Oh! He could bring your meat loaf!"

Oh duh, of course he could. It's scary when a 73-year-old is that much sharper than you are.

I called back right away. Ben had already left.

The only redeeming factor in all this is that all my friends are terribly amused--and no doubt relieved that while they may be heading for menopause and getting forgetful, they sure aren't anywhere near as bad as me.

Quote of the Day:
"There's a recipe here for poppy seed cake. Wanna know how to make it? Make a cake. Show it to your dad."
--Emily