And along with them, maybe our marbles too.
A couple of days ago, DH made a wonderful salad for supper. Lettuce, green onion, cucumber, peppers, tomatoes – and radishes. When we buy bunches of radishes, we immediately clean them, remove the greens, and store them in a plastic container. So when he made the salad, the plastic container came out of the fridge, radishes sliced into the salad – but apparently the container, which he swears he didn’t empty, didn’t find its way back into the fridge. When DH reached for the container to get some radishes for a sandwich (not sure why he likes that, but he does), it just wasn’t there.
We’ve looked everywhere – fridges, freezers, all the kitchen cupboards, the pantry, the dishwasher and the garbage too. Nothing, not a radish, not a hint of a radish.
How do these things happen? Is there a radish gremlin? When things went missing in past years, we could always manage somehow to blame the kids – they must have walked off with it, or eaten it, or dropped it, or loaned it out, or….. But now we have no-one to blame but ourselves.
So, the answer is – we’ve lost our marbles. Those little things that are supposed to keep us organized and remind us what we’re doing and where we were going and why we were going there. Ever had that happen – you start out to do something, enter a room, and then wonder why you’re there?
A couple of jokes come to mind:
Three elderly men sitting at a table – one says I think I’ll go take a bath, and heads upstairs. He gets upstairs, gets the bath run and then calls out, ‘Was I going to take a bath or have I already finished?’ The second man says, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, I guess I’ll have to go help him’, and starts up the stairs. Part way up, he calls, ‘Was I going up stairs or coming down?’ The third man, in exasperation, says, ‘I sure hope I never get as forgetful as those two,’ and knocks on the wooden table. Then he asks, ‘Now who could that be at the door?’
The other story is about an elderly couple. It appears they found they were getting more and more forgetful, and went to talk to their doctor about it, to see what they could do. The doctor suggested that they write notes as reminders. The couple happily went home, resolved to keep track of themselves. One evening, the husband says, ‘I’m going into the kitchen to get some ice cream, would you like some?’ The wife responds, ‘That sounds good, how about adding some nuts to that?’ The husband says that would be no problem, and the wife suggests he write this down so he won’t forget. The husband assures her he won’t forget and starts toward the kitchen. The wife then asks him to add some chocolate sauce to her ice cream, to which he happily agrees, and again declines to write this down, assuring her he won’t forget. Then the wife asks for some whipped cream, too – with the same response: ‘It’s okay, I won’t forget – ice cream with nuts, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream.’ Several minutes later, the husband returns with a plate of bacon and eggs – to which the wife responds,’ Oh, for pities’ sake, I knew you’d forget my toast.’
It seems to be happening more and more frequently in our lives, getting to a place, and having to back track to remember why we were there and what we planned to do – or we lose the radishes. It’s a sign of something, but I refuse to believe it’s old age. I think it’s just that we have so many things in our heads, that we just can’t sift through them all to figure out what we’re doing and where we’re going – or where we put the radishes. When the day comes that we lose our way home, I guess then we’ll have to admit defeat, but until then we’ll continue to back-track, write notes, rely on others to help us out – and search for the radishes.
I'm so glad that you stopped by, and hope that you enjoy your visit. Here you will find pieces of my life - quilting, cross-stitch, family, travel, friends.
My name is Peg - I am a 60ish wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend - and if we're not already related or friends, hope to become your friend too.
We live in the eastern end of the beautiful Fraser Valley, about 1.5 hours east of Vancouver, BC. Empty nesters, we have one son living just a few minutes away, our other son and daughter live in Alberta.
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