You probably all know the song that starts ‘I talk to the trees’ well the alternative second line ’that’s why they put me away’ is starting more and more to look like my theme song. No I don’t talk to the trees - am worried they might talk back to me - but I think the men in the white coats are getting closer and closer. I have been doing the usual senior citizen things for ages now, like not knowing what I have gone into a room for, putting things away in a safe place and then forgetting where that safe place was, forgetting names, the date, that sort of thing, but assumed it was all par for the course.
However, I am definitely getting worse. Deteriorating in fact. Take last weekend for instance. First of all on Friday evening I couldn’t get the Internet on my computer, just a message that informed me the computer was ’not connected’. No one else uses this computer so I knew everything was intact and in the way I had left it when it was last used. I tried sending myself an email - no good. I tried everything I could but to no avail – and no use asking his nibs because he doesn’t even know how to turn the machine on! So I phoned my son who teaches computing at a High School (is coordinator of IT there) for help and advice.
He asked me if the modem was still connected whereupon my mind went blank (even blanker than it usually is these days) and for the life in me I couldn’t think what a bleeding modem was!!! I must have been in a bit of a stew or something (panic stations and all that) because of course I know what a modem is. In all fairness I’m not THAT stupid. However, at that particular time I didn’t confess the blankness of my mind and said I didn’t know where it was after looking for anything that looked like it could possibly be a modem. He said he thought it was hiding behind my printer - and sure enough there it was, all black - no lights on. It was then that lightening struck in my little brain and I remembered that during the day I had shredded some stuff. I always switch off the power to the shredder when finished for safety reasons and the switch is on the same power-board as my printer, as the computer and yes! as the modem. So what had this idiot (me!) done - that’s right, I had switched off the modem instead of the shredder. That of course was the reason why I couldn’t get onto the Internet. It really does help to have the modem connected,,,, In my defence I must say here that the power-board is under my work bench and it is dark there. (Almost as dark as the recesses of my brain).
My son is so good with me, handles me very well and with gentle care in deference to my age and all that – definitely not in anticipation of any inheritance he might get through his kindness ‘cause he knows there ain’t going to be any - and so as to make me feel less stupid than I was feeling said it could happen to anyone or some such thing. So that was that. (And no it couldn’t happen to anyone - but bless you my son for saying it could).
Saturday arrived and my 8-year old granddaughter, Lucy, was here for the weekend so we did a few things during the morning, including going over to the local golf club where we found some little lizards hiding behind the bark of a tree. As the four lizards we already have merrily chomp their way through $5 of crickets a week I persuaded Lucy that the ones she was holding would be happier left there.
Later that day I said that we hadn’t made gingerbread men for a while so Lucy and I decided to make some. First of all I had to make sure I had enough brown sugar, so I weighed this and put it to one side. Lucy sifted the flour, the ginger and the bi-carb into a bowl. Then I put in the margarine and she crumbled it up beautifully. I added the egg and syrup and took over while I kneaded it. I was just about to roll it out when I noticed next to the rolling pin the brown sugar all beautifully weighed out - BUT NOT IN THE MIXTURE!!!!! Had completely forgotten to put it in. Oops!.
Should I dump the lot I wondered as I usually get rid of any failures as soon as I can so that people only know of my successes (that way they always think I am just so brilliant and always succeed, the rubbish bin could tell a different story) but I worked it out that the taste and outcome should be the same as long as I could get the sugar to mix in at that late stage. I threw it into the bowl with the mixture and kneaded, and kneaded, and kneaded until the sugar had sort of disappeared and the mixture didn’t feel like sandpaper any more. By that time my arms felt like they were falling off.
In the meanwhile Lucy had got fed-up with waiting for the rolling out to begin and had gone off searching for millipedes to put into the little ‘house’ she had made for them, which had leaves and grass in it for their dinner.
Back to the gingerbread mixture. I finally rolled it out - cut out little men, baked them - and thankfully they came out fine. Phew! One or two arms and legs did fall off along the way, and the odd head but in the main they were OK.
Then on Sunday I decided to send a text message to my youngest daughter to wish her well in her new job (she was starting it the next day) and to say we were thinking of her. Also to say we hoped she was having a lovely weekend with Jenny (her friend who was spending the weekend with her and her husband). I was just about to send it when I realised I was actually about to send it to a friend instead of to my daughter, had pressed the wrong name – my friend would have wondered who the heck was Jenny, and as my friend is 75 and has long since retired with no thought of ever working again, she would have been shall we say slightly perplexed if I had have sent it.
We won’t talk about the lemon cheesecake that wouldn’t set, who knows what I did wrong there – but I fixed that by freezing it and serving it as a frozen dessert. Actually tasted quite yummy. And the dinner that seemed to be taking a long time to cook – which was probably because I hadn’t turned the stove on.
So it looks like all the quizzes I do, all the cryptic crosswords I do (well I attempt to do) and all the puzzles I complete are not having a great influence on me. Perhaps the harsh Australian sun has addled my brain – or it’s simply that I’m old.
Maybe I WILL go outside and talk to the trees…..and wait patiently for the men in the white coats.
However, I am definitely getting worse. Deteriorating in fact. Take last weekend for instance. First of all on Friday evening I couldn’t get the Internet on my computer, just a message that informed me the computer was ’not connected’. No one else uses this computer so I knew everything was intact and in the way I had left it when it was last used. I tried sending myself an email - no good. I tried everything I could but to no avail – and no use asking his nibs because he doesn’t even know how to turn the machine on! So I phoned my son who teaches computing at a High School (is coordinator of IT there) for help and advice.
He asked me if the modem was still connected whereupon my mind went blank (even blanker than it usually is these days) and for the life in me I couldn’t think what a bleeding modem was!!! I must have been in a bit of a stew or something (panic stations and all that) because of course I know what a modem is. In all fairness I’m not THAT stupid. However, at that particular time I didn’t confess the blankness of my mind and said I didn’t know where it was after looking for anything that looked like it could possibly be a modem. He said he thought it was hiding behind my printer - and sure enough there it was, all black - no lights on. It was then that lightening struck in my little brain and I remembered that during the day I had shredded some stuff. I always switch off the power to the shredder when finished for safety reasons and the switch is on the same power-board as my printer, as the computer and yes! as the modem. So what had this idiot (me!) done - that’s right, I had switched off the modem instead of the shredder. That of course was the reason why I couldn’t get onto the Internet. It really does help to have the modem connected,,,, In my defence I must say here that the power-board is under my work bench and it is dark there. (Almost as dark as the recesses of my brain).
My son is so good with me, handles me very well and with gentle care in deference to my age and all that – definitely not in anticipation of any inheritance he might get through his kindness ‘cause he knows there ain’t going to be any - and so as to make me feel less stupid than I was feeling said it could happen to anyone or some such thing. So that was that. (And no it couldn’t happen to anyone - but bless you my son for saying it could).
Saturday arrived and my 8-year old granddaughter, Lucy, was here for the weekend so we did a few things during the morning, including going over to the local golf club where we found some little lizards hiding behind the bark of a tree. As the four lizards we already have merrily chomp their way through $5 of crickets a week I persuaded Lucy that the ones she was holding would be happier left there.
Later that day I said that we hadn’t made gingerbread men for a while so Lucy and I decided to make some. First of all I had to make sure I had enough brown sugar, so I weighed this and put it to one side. Lucy sifted the flour, the ginger and the bi-carb into a bowl. Then I put in the margarine and she crumbled it up beautifully. I added the egg and syrup and took over while I kneaded it. I was just about to roll it out when I noticed next to the rolling pin the brown sugar all beautifully weighed out - BUT NOT IN THE MIXTURE!!!!! Had completely forgotten to put it in. Oops!.
Should I dump the lot I wondered as I usually get rid of any failures as soon as I can so that people only know of my successes (that way they always think I am just so brilliant and always succeed, the rubbish bin could tell a different story) but I worked it out that the taste and outcome should be the same as long as I could get the sugar to mix in at that late stage. I threw it into the bowl with the mixture and kneaded, and kneaded, and kneaded until the sugar had sort of disappeared and the mixture didn’t feel like sandpaper any more. By that time my arms felt like they were falling off.
In the meanwhile Lucy had got fed-up with waiting for the rolling out to begin and had gone off searching for millipedes to put into the little ‘house’ she had made for them, which had leaves and grass in it for their dinner.
Back to the gingerbread mixture. I finally rolled it out - cut out little men, baked them - and thankfully they came out fine. Phew! One or two arms and legs did fall off along the way, and the odd head but in the main they were OK.
Then on Sunday I decided to send a text message to my youngest daughter to wish her well in her new job (she was starting it the next day) and to say we were thinking of her. Also to say we hoped she was having a lovely weekend with Jenny (her friend who was spending the weekend with her and her husband). I was just about to send it when I realised I was actually about to send it to a friend instead of to my daughter, had pressed the wrong name – my friend would have wondered who the heck was Jenny, and as my friend is 75 and has long since retired with no thought of ever working again, she would have been shall we say slightly perplexed if I had have sent it.
We won’t talk about the lemon cheesecake that wouldn’t set, who knows what I did wrong there – but I fixed that by freezing it and serving it as a frozen dessert. Actually tasted quite yummy. And the dinner that seemed to be taking a long time to cook – which was probably because I hadn’t turned the stove on.
So it looks like all the quizzes I do, all the cryptic crosswords I do (well I attempt to do) and all the puzzles I complete are not having a great influence on me. Perhaps the harsh Australian sun has addled my brain – or it’s simply that I’m old.
Maybe I WILL go outside and talk to the trees…..and wait patiently for the men in the white coats.
