Forgetfulness and Foibles

Before I forget, which I have done for the last month: Some of you asked me to let you know here when I put pottery on Etsy. I use Instagram for my free advertising, but if you are not on Instagram, you don’t get the announcements. So, here’s the link if you wish to check out what’s left in the shop: Black Oak Ceramics. I am sorry I forgot to alert you. There are still some mugs available, if you are interested in supporting small business. 😉 I might add that shipping seems pretty steep, (They just upped the rates again for the Christmas rush) but as it happens, I can usually ship two mugs for very nearly the same price as one. Not that I want to sell all my mugs, or anything. I asked the Post Office about last dates for Christmas delivery, and they said probably December 15.

When I was setting up online banking on an app last week, I was given a list of security questions for the future. They ranged from things like, “What was the name of your first pet? What is your mother’s maiden name? Who’s your favorite musician?” I was supposed to pick 10 questions, and some of them had no concrete answers. I don’t have one favorite musician. “What’s your dream car?” I thought that might be a good one because I can see it in my mind, but I could not think what it was called at that moment. There was no way I was going to be sure I could recall my dream car when the security question popped up. I remembered later. It’s a Mini Cooper, just because it’s cute and after years of parking a Suburban, I’d find it restful. Memory experts say I need to associate that tidbit with something else in my mind so it doesn’t get lost, so I am seeing myself in a tiny green car, pulling off a flawless parallel park in Pittsburgh.

The same blank thing happens when the pharmacist asks my child’s date of birth in that brisk professional tone, and I stand there stammering, all five of my children’s birthdays gone away for the moment. Where has my brain gone?

I’ve gone to the chiropractor a few times in the last month. This is not an attempt to improve my memory, but more to do with “potter shoulder”, let’s be clear. At every visit he instructs me to turn my head to the left. Every time I struggle to find the correct left. Does he mean the back of my head or the front of my head? It’s very humiliating. I have had left/right confusion my whole life, but it’s the spur of the moment times that really show me up. I find myself making extra effort to act intelligent in other ways to try to offset this lapse.

I’ve heard of women who always face a certain direction for family pictures because they have “a good side”. The problem is, looking in the mirror is not the same as looking at a camera lens. I’ve given up on remembering a good side. It is what it is. What you see is what you get. This fall I wrote an article about my garden experiments at this property and submitted it for Daughters of Promise. They suggested that it would be good to have pictures taken of the actual garden and me in it. I found a talented young lady locally who took the pictures, and when I was looking through them, I made the comment, “Well, I guess that’s how I look.” My daughter is very astute, and she said, “You don’t look fat if that’s what you mean.”

It’s astounding how often I spill coffee when I wear a white shirt. I have a niece who has joined me in this club. We prefer not to wear white. That’s one of the best ways to keep from spilling our coffee.

I suppose it’s human nature to want to appear pulled together, a person who does not forget stuff and make messes and flub up in general.

We learn coping mechanisms and scramble to cover our tracks. We look around quickly when we fall, checking to see if anyone has witnessed our lack of coordination. I do have a wide streak of dignity that I get from my father’s side of the family. I suspect it is healthy for everyone to keep things to themselves that nobody needs to know. I am not talking about secret sins, of course, but personal issues such as sucking one’s thumb to fall asleep. (I don’t.) My mom used to ask, “Is nothing sacred anymore?” when she felt like her children were skirting the edges of what was proper to talk about and what might be called ‘Eskimo’.

Sometimes I spout opinions without thinking about the person hearing them. Last week I wore a dress to church that had white flowers on a black fabric and a white sweater layered on top. A friend asked me if I had a new dress, and I said, “No, it’s just a new combination. I usually wear this dress with a black top, but I decided the world is dreary enough right now.” Then I looked at my friend and saw she was wearing a black dress with a black sweater, and what was there to do but to laugh and try to delicately extract my foot from my mouth?

I do consider my best defense mechanism to be able to laugh at myself, to find the humor in humanity. I only came to write this post to let you know about the Etsy sale. It seems like I found plenty of foibles to cheer your day, as well. Wouldn’t you like to know all the stuff I didn’t say?

Cheers! Go forth to brighten your world today, and if something funny happens, laugh heartily and tell somebody about it!