Friday, February 20, 2009

I'm trying to remember

Dear Supreme Being, whatever your name may be:

Hey there. I know -- you're thinking "It's that agnostic again. Make up your mind: do I exist to you or not?" Well I went deist some time ago. I just didn't pick one of the various faiths that offer their version of the path to Enlightenment/Salvation/Nirvana/whatever. So we can get that out of the way right now.

Anyhoo, I've been wondering lately just what it is that you decided that at the point a woman starts losing her hormones she loses her brain. I don't mean the mood swings or psychotic episodes that come with that (and by the way thank you for NOT having me go through that, since I went through enough of that prior to the hysterectomy). It's the memory loss. The DUH moments when you know exactly what that word is that you want to say and you're a perfectly intelligent person that has a college degree and a huge vocabulary but for some reason your brain misfires and the word just simply escapes you and you're stuck sitting there with your friend waiting for you to tell you the word as you sit waggling your fingers to try to FOR THE LIFE OF ME WHAT IS THAT WORD?? remember what you want to say. Yeah, that thing.

I'm sure you've heard from a multitude of women who have already gone through this and nod sagely. They look at me and nod. "Oh yes, she's going through THAT part." The big sisters of the grand sisterhood just watching you suffer as you try to remember what the last ingredient of that drink you had last night was -- it begins with a "c" -- or was it a "g"? Just what in hell was in that drink? They tell you later about all the post it notes they use and send you emails telling how you intended to go take the trash out but through a series of distractions ended up watching TV and going to bed.

Thank you for the Internet, Big Guy. It at least tells me I'm not heading for a life of sitting in a wheelchair with a vacuous look on my face and a big bib as my brain slowly rots. It's supposed to be normal for me to be like this. Perhaps not this soon but since I hurried up the process a bit I'm getting the results. Like remembering the routines of George Carlin word for word but heaven help me if I can tell you what I was doing with that handspindle last night is supposed to be normal.

So what did we do to deserve this? I know in the Bible it said that women were to bear children with the pain of leaving Eden. But did it have to include this? You'd think that the one thing you'd want us women to do is to remember. It was the point, right? But we don't. We forget, then recall just before we drop off to sleep that we left the groceries out on the back porch because we got distracted by a phone call from Maggie.

I tell you what. Do me a favor and for the next few generations test drive the possibility of allowing us women to remember things when we hit menopause. If you don't like it you can always undo the work. But I think you'll find that it will make your life simpler. After all, I can't imagine you'd want to hear the same prayers over and over again.

On the Fiber Front

Word reached me through Twitter that Phat Fiber is doing a giveaway. All you have to do is name a very cute baby goat and you get a chance to win a pound of lovely fiber samples. I've put in my entry after giving it thought. I hope I hope I hope I win!

In the meantime, I've been working on various things. The Queen Sized QAL is resting for the moment on row 75 (a little less than halfway rowwise and a third stitchwise). I'm back to work on the secret project and am very happy with the results. Earlier in the week I washed the remainder of the baby alpaca fleece and spent last night picking the locks apart into a big soft cloud. I'm less than halfway through the picking. I can see this being a very nice shawl.

I must make a recommendation to my fiber readers because these bags can be hard to find. I like to keep my projects in zip-closing bags to keep them clean and protected from potential snagging, but the gallon sized bags are sometimes just way too small. I use the Hefty Jumbo zip bags for the big projects. Shawls, sweaters, you name it. They hold a lot. But the tricky part is that they're not found just anywhere. This evening when I did my groceries I found my local Safeway had them in stock, so I snagged a couple of boxes. Surfing on the net yielded no results, so if you find them, BUY 'em! You'll be glad you did.

5 comments:

PNWBookGirl said...

The alpaca looks dreamy! I should probably do the same with my baby alpaca locks from OFFF. They're next on the list after the camel.

My poor sister, she already has chemo brain, I'm not looking forward to telling her about meno brain. Hey! I don't have to worry, I won't remember! Good thing she's younger than me, she can just observe from afar.

PNWBookGirl said...

Oh! You can come with us on March 7th and get a whole fleece for $10. If that's too much, you could split with someone I'm sure.....

I know, I'm awful because I'm enabling your fiber addiction.....

FiberQat said...

I'm looking forward to the fleece I'm getting at Spinnerati. Hopefully it won't be in too bad a shape.

Roxie said...

When I win the lottery, I may have a whole bed's worth of alpaca fluff plucked to downy softness, then just roll nekkid in it for a while. Wouldn't THAT tickle your fancy?

In my experience, it's the short-term and verbal memory that frays. The long-term and the visceral memories remain. Making banana bread always triggers the memory of sitting on Grandma's lap to help mash the bananas. It makes me feel warm, happy, and cherished. Where I put my keys ten minutes ago? Gone like the wind. The name of the lady next door? Lost in the files.

Jennie said...

I have been having meno brain all week. Or maybe perimeno... in any case. What's-That-Word-itis. Ugh.

I'm all in favor of the alpaca-fluff bed, though.

(Oh, and the word I forget most often? "Articulate." *nice.*)