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I’m having a senior moment…okay, more than one

My dad, bless his soul, would say I am now halfway to 104. If that doesn’t give you a clue to my age, then know that once you hit the ripe old age of 50, it all goes south, your body parts and your memory.
What was I saying?
You have to love those senior moments. Whoever coined that phrase hit the nail on the head. Senior moments are a really nice way of saying that my hormones are overactive, raging and menopause is in full swing. Thanks to AARP, once you hit 50, you are now a senior citizen, though the good discounts don’t come until you are over 55. When you hit 50, the memory goes – just like that. Where once a woman could claim that she was multi-tasking, overwhelmed with work, had too many household duties, wifely duties, was a mother, and therefore, forgetting what she was doing or saying – had a good excuse. When you hit the bit 5-0, it becomes more than that.
You have to look at it with a sense of humor. I can read just about anything and retain it. I consider myself well read and exercise my brain all day long. But I still have to write everything down or I’ll forget it. Lists are the key to my existence and survival. Whoever invented the post-it note sure had me in mind. To top that, Macs come with computerized post-it notes so I don’t have to have the zillion pieces of little sticky yellow notes plastered all over my monitor.
For those who have never experienced a senior moment, consider these examples:
The other night while watching the premier of season seven of Dancing with the Stars, my son asked to borrow my car to go to the store. “Sure,” I told him, “Please be careful.” It was 8 p.m. At 8:30 I began to get worried. We live one-eighth of a mile from the supermarket so he should have been back. Of course, I wasn’t so worried that I couldn’t wait until DWTS was on commercial break to check on him. Over the next half hour, I kept glancing at the clock, noting that maybe he ran into some friends and was just hanging out. At 9, I finally hit his number on my cell phone. “Hi Mom,” said he.
“Where have you been,” said I. “You left for the store an hour ago.”
“I’m in the office, on the computer Mom. I walked right by you and spoke to you nearly an hour ago when I returned Mom!”
Needless to say, I’d had a major senior moment. Or maybe it was the sight of 82-year-old Cloris Leachman attempting to dance the waltz on national T.V. that made me lose my mind.
Last Thanksgiving, I cooked up my traditional sweet/white horseradish mashed potato dish. It’s a family favorite. Not only is it delicious on Thanksgiving Day, it’s even better the next night when you spend the day, your mouth-watering, just waiting for dinnertime and the holiday leftovers. We always eat our Thanksgiving meal at my sister’s home next door. So at the end of the holiday meal, we carry over the dishes and pack them away for leftovers. The next day, I came home from work eagerly anticipating a repeat of the Thanksgiving meal. I piled nearly everything on my plate and then tore the refrigerator apart looking for the potatoes. They were nowhere to be found. I called my sister who had watched me carry them over to my house, so they were here somewhere. As I continued to search my refrigerator, something made me open my oven. There, sitting on an oven rack was the one-day-old, unrefrigerated remains of the Thanksgiving potatoes. I had placed them in the oven to keep the temptation to nibble away from my two feisty felines until I had brought all the leftover food over to my house and packed it in Tupperware. It was another memorable senior moment that I still haven’t lived down.
I believe senior moments are God’s way of keeping me on my toes. I never remember where I’ve placed my eyeglasses and often I find them perched on top of my head. Tiny pieces of paper where I may have scribbled a reminder to myself are forgotten if I’ve placed them in a pocket – until that is, I go to do a load of laundry.
At least a senior moment is something I can share with my husband. Often we will watch a movie together and totally forget the lead actor’s name, or what was the name of the last movie we saw together. Thank goodness for the beauty of being able to Google, as long as we remember the name of the movie we’re in the middle of watching!
Earlier this week I was closing down my computer, straightening up my desk and preparing to leave for the day. Nearly everyone else had already left. I picked up my lunch bag, my keys and my glasses and went out the door, pausing at the exit to pat my pants pocket to be sure I had my keys. I waltzed down to my car, threw the lunch bag in the back seat and reached for my purse to put it in too, only to find it wasn’t there. I had left it in the building.
The embarrassing forgetfulness that you feel is like being the poster child for a bloated brain cramp. Other moments include: driving halfway home from Blue Springs and not remembering the last 20 miles; walking from one room to the other to do something – except by the time you reach the other room, you’ve forgotten why you went there in the first place; trying to play a trivia game and you can’t remember any of the trivia, even though you know you lived during those times; and heaven help you if you get side-tracked in the middle of something – once you’ve got your attention back to what you were doing, you can’t remember how far you had gotten or what you were ready to do.
It’s not easy growing old. It sure isn’t for sissies. I guess with God’s good grace (and sense of humor), exercising my brain and some good memory-inducing herbs, I’ll get through.
I had more to say here…but I forgot it.

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