MIND SLIPS

Lately, there have been different kinds of things in my life that make me stop and consider.  I think often of my childhood and younger, carefree life and think about the older folks that were in that life—grandparents, parents, and such.  And these days when I consider that in relation to the age I am now, it seems to me that I remember these folks seeming so much older than I seem to myself now—even when I look at myself in the mirror.  It’s often been said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  Well, maybe age is, too?  Guess one is as young (or as old) as they feel.

For the past few years, I’ve actually had to subtract the years to remember my age.  After doing a quick subtraction, I realize I will be 57 this year.   Three years away from 60. 60! Some days I still feel like I’m 40.  Or even 37.  And then other times, I realize I’m not 40 or even 37.  Not even close.  I will share that I experienced a whole lot of joy a few days after I turned 55 and was in the downtown Hickory Flat Kroger on a Wednesday.  I think the little teenage cashier was just asking everyone—I hope—if they wanted the “Senior discount”.  I asked what age one had to be to get it (thinking it was 60 like so many other places) and he replied, “55”.  Ahhh….YES!!!!  I was sooo excited and now plan my visits to HF Kroger on Wednesdays.  I save 5%.  Yes, 5%!  Bet you young readers are anticipating the day when YOU get to visit HF Kroger on Wednesdays and save 5%.  Uh huh.

I so get off track with my writing.  Let me get back on track. 

I’ve realized in the past couple of years that age does creep up and does make a gradual change in people.  For instance, I go into a room often and wonder why I came in that particular room.  I have asked The Girl a question and she would give me that “look” while not saying anything.  I say to her, “Uh oh.  I already asked this question.  Can you repeat the answer you answered before?”  I often listen to The Husband tell me things he’s told me time and time and time again.  I’ve learned just to listen time and time and time again.  He doesn’t have a clue so I don’t tell him.  You don’t tell him either.

I was reminded of “mind slips” the other day when I was home and decided to make a carrot cake for The Husband.  He loves carrot cake.  The recipe I have from the church cookbook is really easy to cut in half.  I have small pans that work beautifully and the husband doesn’t need a whole carrot cake.  (The aging process also causes addition of excess weight easily.)  So I whipped up the cake, opened the oven to remove and noticed it looked a bit strange.  I dumped it out on the racks….and let me say that dumped is a true description.  Those two little layers came out in wads.  Just didn’t look right.  Maybe it could be salvaged. So went on with my stuff while it cooled and then went back to put the icing on.  I looked at it and felt it and it seemed really hard and wrong.  So I’m thinking I shouldn’t waste icing on it and went on about my stuff again.  When I walked back into the kitchen, my eyes were immediately drawn to the island and the 2 cups of shredded carrots sitting there.  Uh huh.  What’s a carrot cake without carrots?  A big mess.  I took a deep breath and thought, “Ahhhh…” Mind slip.  And yes, I made another half of a carrot cake which turned out perfectly with the carrots inside.

With the carrot cake episode, I was reminded of a Sunday night several months ago.  Now I’ll preface this story by saying that I love to sew, craft, and scrapbook.  Cutting and gluing paper is therapy to me.  Making something pretty out of a piece of fabric gives me joy.  Many years ago, The Husband closed in half of our back porch and made me a room we call the “studio” in which I could do all these things and leave them out so I could work a little, go back work a little more….you get the idea.  No creative mess in the living room anymore.  So there’s one way into this “studio” through a door in the carport.  Remember this as it’s important.  This particular Sunday night, about 8:00 p.m., I decided I would go out and cut and glue some paper.  I had a wonderful time doing that as I remember the experience.  About 9:45 or so I decided I would call it a night.  I sort of made my desk a bit more tidy and checked the heat/air, turned off the tv and went to the door.  I turned the knob, only to realize it was locked.  The Girl had locked the knob not realizing I was in there.  Okay, so did I mention that the door locks from the carport side?   Uh huh.  So I stand there for a minute and think, “Oh my goodness.   What am I going to do?”  My cell phone is on the kitchen counter.  Inside the house.  Keep in mind that The Husband and The Girl are potentially asleep by now.  The Husband usually goes to sleep in his recliner and let me tell you, if Gabriel comes to blow that trumpet while The Husband is asleep, he’d better blow loud and long to wake The Husband.  The Girl’s room is a ways down the hall away, far from the “studio” with the door shut and the tv going.  So I consider.  I bang on the wall nearest the den.  Of course, it's not right at the den as there's the other half of the screened porch between the wall and the den door.  I bang and bang and begin to shout, “Help”.  Nothing.  I bang some more screaming “Help”.  Again nothing.

I stop and think another minute.  Okay so I have heat/air and I have a 30 year old La-Z-boy recliner that is most comfortable so I technically can have a good night’s sleep here.  When everyone wakes in the morning and breakfast is not cooked, they will miss me.  It will be okay.  Then I remember.  A necessity.  Every 50 something year old woman has to have a bathroom accessible during the night.  It’s a MUST.  And my studio has NO bathroom facility.  So I bang on the wall yet again.  Nothing but quiet.  And then I do what someone else might have done earlier.  I panicked.  Big time.  PANIC.  I'm shaking all over as I go to raise the blind and begin to raise the window.  I get it raised then stick my head out into the dark and yell again “Help!”  I’m contemplating trying to get my body that is larger than the window opening out of the window when the door to the room opens.

Ah….I turned around with panicked eyes and see The Girl standing there.  “Mama, what is WRONG?  We kept hearing a bumping noise.”  Well duh….a bumping noise?  I was hitting harder than a bump. Wrong?  What is "wrong"?  What a ridiculous question.  I walk to the door and see The Husband, awake, standing in the kitchen/carport door smiling.  Awake.  And SMILING.  How dare he?  Still very upset, I reply quietly, “You locked the door and I couldn’t get out.  I was afraid you were all asleep.  And my cell phone was on the kitchen counter.”  I was near tears.  And for me, that’s pretty panicked.  The Girl just looked at me with sympathy, and said, “What’s wrong with THAT phone?” as she eyed the working landline phone on the studio bookcase.  Duh.  Ah.  Mind slip.  Big time. 

I went in without a word and went to bed.  Panic is exhausting.  Especially when one is aging.  ;-) Needless to say, the next night, The Husband changed the knob so it wouldn’t lock from the outside. Sadly, he said  I wasn’t necessarily safe alone there with the knob left as it was. 

I’ve decided that even a slight amount of aging can really slip one’s mind into distress on occasion.  But it’s as I always told The Girl, “This, too, shall pass.”  Eventually.  ;-)

Are you there yet?