You Gonna Use the Rest of that Synapse?

Hello Dear Readers! It’s Friday again which means it’s time to fish something out of the archives.  Today’s offering is:

The Suspect Synapses
The Suspect Synapses

You Gonna Use the Rest of that Synapse?

I think I’m coming down with a bad case of old age.  I think I might have caught it from my husband, 37.

The two of us are just pathetic in that neither one of us can finish our own sentences anymore – let alone each others sentences like we used to back in the good old days — when we both had a nice selection of connected synapses to work with.

Still, we’re getting pretty good at having entire conversations without ever being able to remember the name of the topic we are talking about.   They usually go something like this:

You know that guy that was in that movie we watched the other night?  What was his name?

Well,  what was the name of the movie?

I don’t remember but that guy was in it that you like.

That I like? Well, what else has he been in?

Oh, he’s been in lots of stuff,  oh you know!  He was in that movie where that guy sunk on that boat.

Oh Titanic?

No!  Not Titanic!

Well what night was it on?

Uh, it was on . . . last week I think.

Oh yeah, I know what movie you’re talking about.  Yeah.  It had that guy I like in it.  I wish I could remember his name.

Oh what was the name of that movie!  It’s on the tip of my tongue.

I don’t know — but I want to buy it. 

Well, it wasn’t that good.

Yes it was.  It’s the best movie that’s guy’s ever been in.

No, he was way better in that other movie he was in.

What movie was that?

Oh I can’t remember the name of it.  You  know the one where his monkey catches on fire.

Oh Titanic?

No! Not Titanic!

Oh wait . . .  yeah!  Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I know what movie you’re talking about.  Yeah it was really good!  I want to buy that one too!

Well, it wasn’t that good.

Well what do you know, you can’t even remember the name of the movie.

Well, either can you.

So?

This is how most our conversations end now.  With one of us saying, “so”.   Then we’ll wander into the living room and turn on TV.

And if we’re lucky?  There won’t be a movie on with that guy in it.

Until next time . . . I love you

Tightening the Elastic Waistband Til It’s Curtains

I’m not afraid of much.  Shots don’t scare me.  I can get major surgery with my eyes closed.  I’m brave enough to swat and kill any spider any size anytime with my bare hands.  Yeah, I’m pretty much bad to the bone.

Except when it comes to sewing.  When it comes to sewing,  I wouldn’t even qualify as skin-deep bad, I’m just plain ol’ bad.

But I want to sew!

If I could sew, I would make beautiful items for my home.  I’d become a fashion designer and go on Project Runway.  I would have more self-esteem and confidence as a person, in general — not to mention a killer wardrobe where everything I made would make me appear 15 pounds thinner, 20 years younger and upwards of  50  I. Q. points smarter.

It’s not like I haven’t tried!

Once, when my youngest daughter was in the 3rd grade she had a friend over.  I was sewing myself a pair of pants.  I had just finished sewing in the elastic waistband and was feeling rather proud of myself when my daughter’s friend looked over from across the room and asked,

“Why are you sewing an elastic waistband in the leg of those pants?”

I quickly pulled the pants out from under the needle, held them up and sure enough the little brat was right.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete idiot just an unfinished one.

I suspect my sewing problem stems from my inability to be able to tell right from left.  I can tell right from left, of course, — just not consistently.

And being able to distinguish right from left on a regular basis seems to be important in sewing.

Frankly, I don’t understand people who can tell right from left easily.  People like that have a tendency to complicate matters just to confuse you.  37, my engineer-husband takes great delight in vexing me:

Can you hand me my pocket protector? It’s in the right-hand, top-desk drawer.

No it’s not in here.

Yes it is.

No it’s not.

It’s on the RIGHT side of the desk, not the LEFT.  The RIGHT.

Well, that’s the one I’m looking in — the RIGHT and it’s NOT in here.

No, you don’t understand.  It’s on MY right, which is YOUR left.

Or  let’s say 37  is giving me directions over the phone:

What side of the street is their house on?

Well that depends.  Are you going east or west?

East or west?  How would I know? Just tell me what side of the street it’s on!

It’s on the RIGHT side of the street.

Ok, great, thanks.

If . . . .

If what?

If you’re heading east, that is.

I don’t know what direction I’m heading.

Well that’s easy to tell.  If your going East, the shopping center will be on your left.

It’s not on my left.

Not YOUR left MY left.

It’s times like this when I want to get out my sewing machine and sew an elastic waistband into 37’s shirt collar.  Then slowly tighten it to MY left HIS right MY East and HIS West.

You’ll have to excuse me now, I have some sewing to do.

Until next time . . . I love you